


Prodigal Son

by orphan_account



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Non canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry was a month old when they returned to Regina's lands. Now he's turning 17 and beginning to show signs of magic. Meanwhile Emma Swan, bounty hunter, is chasing a bail jumper with a Pinocchio fixation to some town in Maine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted after it all went horribly wrong! Cross posted at ff.net

Regina eyed the squirming bundle in Mr Gold’s arms with sudden trepidation. Her heartbeat picked up as he limped towards her, cane laid aside in order to cradle the tiny form fully. He passed the baby – her son – to her, and as she looked down at the tiny, wrinkled hand waving aimlessly towards her face, she missed the triumph that flashed briefly across his features. Gold murmured his congratulations and turned to leave.

“Gold?” Regina stopped him with a sharp word.

“Madame Mayor?” He responded.

“The birth mother?” Regina asked.

“In prison. She waived all parental rights and agreed to a closed adoption. He’s all yours, Madame Mayor. Congratulations again.”

He slipped out as she refocused on the baby, now yawning softly.

“All mine,” she whispered, suddenly filled with a sense of awe.

“Your name is Henry Daniel Mills,” she told him softly, lifting him gently to kiss his brow. “I’m your mom, Henry. You and me, we’re going to make a happy ending.”

After three days, Regina had had enough. The first night with Henry had been amazing. She'd lain propped up in her bed with Henry lying on her chest, his tiny hand curled over her heart. He'd slept for two hours, then woken and cried, mouthing helplessly at the curve of her breast. She'd managed to warm a bottle without putting him down, and held him close as he suckled on it contentedly. He'd slept again after that; his tiny, snuffling breaths soothing her into a peace she hadn't known since before Daniel had died. On the second day however, word had gone round that the reserved, intimidating mayor had adopted, and Regina's time with her son was constantly interrupted by a stream of well-wishers. The appearance of Mary Margaret had been particularly galling, and Regina had suffered through her saccharine cooing only by reminding herself that not only was her nemesis ignorant of the fact that the vegetable she wasted her afternoons reading to was her husband, but that her child had been abandoned somewhere in this harsh reality and had in all likelihood come to a nasty end.

The presence of her son made that thought uncomfortable in a way it hadn't been in the past, and Regina had found herself offering to let her former daughter-in-law hold Henry. Thankfully she had come to her senses quickly and taken her son back, ushering Mary Margaret out brusquely.

By day three however, it was clear that something would have to be done. The inhabitants of the town she had created seemed to take her son's presence as a sign that she was softening, becoming more approachable. Had she still been Queen in the other land, no-one would have dared call her son "an adowable widdle sausage". He would have been a prince, treated with respect, and she would still have commanded awe.

She was startled by the homesickness that had grown inside her since Henry had arrived. She found herself thinking longingly of her castle, of the forests and fields that surrounded it, of the guards and servants that had attended to her faithfully. Her curse had only caught up those she wanted to punish and those who might be used to punish them, her faithful subjects had remained behind. If she could get back, there would be a kingdom waiting for her. Henry would grow up a prince, the heir apparent. Without Snow White and her moronic husband, she could rule in peace, no longer haunted by the memory of betrayal, and focus on raising her son. On the morning of her fourth day of motherhood, Regina found herself mentally assessing what magic she could muster and whether it would be enough to get her and her son back...to get them home.

It took a month of preparation. Regina had fought with herself viciously, but Henry was too young to withstand a rough journey, so she had reluctantly drained the magic from her mother's spell book. The tome was left blank, and Regina took a moment to acknowledge that she had sacrificed a major source of power for Henry's sake. The knowledge that her mother would never have done the same for her both hurt and made her oddly proud. She collected Jefferson's hat and every other scrap of magic she'd managed to bring with her, and on the thirty-third day of Henry's life, Regina and Henry vanished from Storybrooke.


	2. Chapter One

Emma Swan, now officially closer to forty than to thirty, locked the door to her apartment with a weary sigh. There was only an hour and a half left of her birthday and she briefly considered running down to the 24 hour market across the street and picking up a cupcake, as she had done for the last few years, but she could see her bed through the half open door across the room and the allure of sleep overcame her. Kicking off her boots, she noticed that the soles were beginning to peel away from the uppers. She'd been busy recently; a mass jailbreak that had sent prisoners scattering over three states had earned her enough that she could probably take the rest of the year off, but had also meant she'd gone from contract to contract so fast that she'd been on the road for nearly two months. She headed for the bathroom, pulling her shirt over her head as she went and letting it drop to the ground. She unbuttoned her jeans as she reached the sink, and then kicked them off as she brushed her teeth, trying to avoid her reflection.

Turning 35 hadn't bothered her, but her body was currently showing the strain. Her eyes were sunken and bruised-looking, the result of spending the last three nights on stakeout, and her ribs were beginning to show through the pale skin on her chest. A barely-healed scar ran down her torso, the thin pink line running from her left hip to her belly button. She thought briefly of the mark who had given it to her, a desperate 23 year old running from a life sentence who had tried to shake her for three days before deciding to give murder another try. She'd taken him down with a taser before she'd felt the blood trickle down her leg, and had called 911 straight away. While she waited for the paramedics, she'd scrawled her name and the word MINE on his chest in permanent ink and passed out. She'd woken up to 37 stitches, a healthy paycheck and an offer from the impressed Sheriff to take her out for a drink. Instead of taking him up on it, she’d jumped headlong into two more contracts.

She finished her ablutions and slouched into the bedroom, glancing at the front door to double check the lock. Exhausted, she drew the heavy curtains and slumped bonelessly onto the mattress. She was just drifting off when her phone rang on the dresser, startling her awake. Swearing loudly, she reflexively lunged for it before remembering she was taking the week off.

"What?" She growled into the phone.

"Emma Swan?" The voice was male, with the faintest hint of desperation behind it.

"Yeah, what?!" Emma demanded, seriously considering throwing the phone across the room.

"Oh thank God, I've been looking for you for years, you have no idea-"

"Buddy, I'm not interested. Bug someone else," Emma said, and hung up. She turned the phone to silent and went back to bed.

 

The next morning she slept late, took an obscenely long bubble bath and indulged in a late lunch that probably fulfilled her calorie requirements for the whole week. Feeling slightly more human, she went through her mail. There were a few bills she had yet to set up automatic payment for, the usual swathe of junk mail and several postcards. Emma glanced at the postcards briefly. They were all addressed to places she'd lived previously and a few had obviously been forwarded several times. One had no less than four addresses crossed out and re-written, and she was momentarily impressed before realisation overcame her. The first address was for Boston, a place she hadn't lived in for six years. Another postcard was addressed to New York, where she'd moved after Boston and another to Seattle. Someone was following her, tracking her though her admittedly nomadic movements. She looked at the postcards and they all said the same thing: "Emma, please call me, it's important" and then a phone number. She picked up her phone, intending to find out what the hell was going on, and saw the same number on the screen.

"What the hell? Seventeen missed calls? Who is this guy?"

She dialled the number. It rang twice and the voice from the previous night picked up, now sounding outright panicked.

"Hello?"

"Who the hell are you, how did you get this number and why have you been sending me postcards for the last six years?" Emma demanded.

"Emma? Thank God, please don't hang up! My name's Pin- I mean August. I've been trying to find you!"

"Yeah, I can see that. Why?"

August spoke quickly, tripping over his words. "I sent the book to Henry, I thought he'd come find you. I went there to check, but they're gone! You never got it, and everyone's still cursed, they don't even-"

"Whoa, cursed?" Emma interjected. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I went to Boston, but you'd moved on. You kept moving, I could never find you in time! I sent the postcards so maybe they'd be forwarded and find you, and-"

"Hey! Stop talking for a minute. What do you want with me?"

"You're the Saviour! I mean - shit, I didn't mean-"

"Listen freak," Emma said, now thoroughly pissed off, "if this is a joke it isn't funny and if you're serious, you can fuck off. I don't have time for psychos. Don't call me again." She hung up.

"Time to change my number, I think," she murmured.

Shaking off the weird call, she sat down at her computer and pulled up her emails. She'd made a name for herself over the last few years as one of the best bounty hunters around, someone who could find anyone. A private investigator she knew had suggested setting up an agency together and she was seriously considering the idea. As she got older the aversion to staying in one place was fading, and the idea of having backup sounded a lot better after nearly being gutted. The private eye, a quiet guy named Mike who looked like a librarian but had 15 years in the Marines and four purple hearts under his belt, had emailed over a business plan for her to look over. The agency would combine both their talents, offering investigation and recovery services with a specialty in missing persons, runaways and of course, bail jumpers. Mike had assured her she'd still get to hunt down scumbags; she'd just occasionally have to drag people to rehab instead of the police. The plan looked solid, Mike had never once set off her bullshit detector and the few times they'd worked in parallel in the past they'd worked well together. She forwarded the plan to her lawyer and sent Mike a quick note to say she was on board in principle.

Her phone rang again. She checked the number and sure enough, it was psycho boy. She felt her temper fray.

"Listen, jackass-"

"Emma, please let me explain. I know I sounded crazy, I've just been looking for you for so long-"

"Well you found me, and I'm not interested. Got it?"

"You and I were in the same home together when we were kids," August said, and Emma's breath left her so fast it felt like she'd been kicked.

"What?"

"I...found you, on the side of the road, when you were a baby. We were together for about a year."

"You....what?" Emma's heartbeat was thundering in her ears.

"I'm sorry, I know this is a shock, but it's important. Can we meet?"

"Why?" Emma tried to kick her brain back into gear.

"It's not really something I can explain without sounding crazy again. I'd really like to meet you. Where are you living now, what city?"

"No way, buddy. So you did some research, that doesn't prove anything."

"Okay, anywhere you want, Emma please, just let me talk to you face to face!"

"I'm done with this."

Her finger was just short of the End Call button when she heard his voice again.

"It's about your son!"

She froze, and then very carefully lifted the phone back to her ear.

"My what?"

"You had a son; you gave him up for adoption, right?"

"Yeah..."

"He's disappeared."

Her own voice sounded far off and she felt ice cold. As she began to shake, she distantly noted she was going into shock.

"Where are you?" She asked.

Fourteen hours later, she sat down in a diner in Waterville opposite a scruffy guy in a check shirt, feeling like her world was disintegrating.

"Emma," he said warmly, "thanks for coming." The years of tracking her had apparently taken a toll. He sat stiffly, as though in pain and his clothes were old and ragged. He was sporting a three-day beard and it appeared to have been at least that long since he'd showered. He fidgeted under her gaze.

"Talk fast," she snapped.

"Okay, listen. When you gave him up, I made sure your kid went to Storybrooke. It's a town about 50 miles from here, but you won't find it on the map. He was supposed to come get you seven years ago."

"That was a closed adoption, from _prison_. There's no way you could even know about it, never mind interfere!" Emma tried not to shout, mindful of the nosy waitress.

"Please, just listen! When you didn't show, I went myself and I found that he and his adoptive mom vanished a month after he was born. I think she took him back."

"Back where?" Emma said, picking a question at random from the maelstrom inside her.

"Back where we come from, Emma. You and me, we aren't from here."

"From Maine?"

"No, not from Maine. You were born in another world, Emma, and sent here to keep you safe from a powerful curse. I was supposed to look after you. I failed, and I'm sorry! I’m sorry, I am, this shouldn't be happening!"

Emma looked at the completely sincere expression on his face and took a deep breath.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I know how it sounds, believe me, but I don't have time to ease you into this. The stories you think are fairy tales, they're stories about another world. I'm one of them!"

"Yeah, which one?" Emma asked, more out of shock than anything else.

"Pinocchio. They're just stories here, Emma, but they're true for us, and getting truer. I'm turning back, Emma. You have to help me!"

Emma let out a short bark of laughter.

"Pinocchio? Fits, I suppose." She grabbed August's collar and yanked him over the table, coming nose to nose with him.

"You listen to me, you little creep. I don't know how you found this stuff about me, but if you come near me again, I don't care what you diagnosis is, I _will_ shoot you. We clear?"

"But-"

She glared at him.

"We're clear," he murmured, slumping pathetically.

"Good." Emma strode out, leaving August staring at the grubby table.

"Blew it," he muttered angrily, staring in despair at the wood grain barely visible between his trouser leg and his shoe. "Blew it, blew it! Keep it together, gotta convince her, gotta make her see." He mumbled to himself for another 20 minutes before being asked to leave.

 

On the drive back, Emma called Mike and asked him to do some research on her stalker. She gave him a brief outline of what he'd said, leaving out the part about the adoption, and he promised to get back to her.

She hadn't thought about her son in fifteen years. When she'd discovered she was pregnant she'd been determined no child of hers would grow up in the system like she did. She'd co-operated with the prison and the adoption agency, jumped through every hoop, to make sure the kid went to a family that wanted him, not someone just looking for a government handout. She'd refused to even hold him after giving birth, not wanting to form any kind of bond with this new life she was sending into the world alone, and spent the rest of her sentence trying to convince herself she wasn't heartbroken. When she got out she ran as far as she could, taking any job that kept her busy enough to block out the memory of his tiny face, screwed up as he wailed his first breaths. Surprisingly, it had worked. She'd run from city to city, chasing the kind of people she could have so easily become, and with each new place the memories faded a little more. Now, here she was, finally willing to stop running, and he'd caught up to her in the form of background research that some wacko had turned into a delusion. Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as she fought the urge to turn around and beat the scruffy little weasel senseless for opening wounds long since scabbed over.

"C'mon, Emma, keep it together." She refused to let his crazy ideas gain any traction in her mind. The kid was fine, and he wasn't any of her business, anyway. She had no right to worry about him. She'd signed on the dotted line and let him be carried away from her before even the last contraction, and that was the end of her time as a mother. Period.

For the second time in three days she walked straight into bed, kicking off her clothes along the way, and dreamed of dragons and empty cradles.

Mike called her the next day.

"Hey Emma, I looked into that guy for you."

"That was fast, Mike," Emma observed, a decent night's sleep having allowed her to clear her mind.

"Yeah well, you're no use to me if you get yourself killed by a stalker, are you?" Mike's tone was warm.

"True," Emma allowed, smiling. "What did you find out?"

"Well, he wasn't lying. You two really were in a home together."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. He and a bunch of other kids ran away when you were about nine months old. He would have been about eight. He was in and out of the system till he turned eighteen, then he dropped off the grid. Resurfaced about 6 years ago in Maine. He was arrested for breaking into a state records office, looking through adoption papers."

Emma inhaled sharply.

"He's spent a lot of time in institutions since then. His records mention fairy-tale delusions repeatedly, that mean anything to you?"

"Yeah, Mike. I'm a fairy-tale princess, can't you tell?"

If he heard the slight tremor in her voice, Mike chose to ignore it.

"That explains it then," he chuckled. "Listen, this guy's a whack-job, but I don’t think he's dangerous. Nothing you can't handle, right?"

"Right," Emma affirmed, still a little shaken.

"Okay then. Did your lawyer get back to you yet?"

Emma gratefully accepted the change of subject. They talked business for a few minutes more and agreed to meet for lunch the next day. Emma felt much better after the call and reflected, not for the first time, that Mike was a good friend. it had taken her a while to get used to the idea, never having stayed put long enough to put down those kind of roots before, but she was glad.

"You're growing up," she addressed her reflection in the computer screen. She debated whether to check for new contracts, but the twinge on her stomach as she stretched reminded her of her intention to take a break.

 

August paced his tiny apartment frantically, muttering under his breath. Various prescription bottles littered the countertops nearby and he wondered, not for the first time, if he really was crazy. The wooden thump of his feet as he paced drew his attention, however, and he let the thought go. It had started so gradually that he hadn't noticed at first. He'd been searching for Emma after going to Storybrooke and finding a town convinced that it's mayor and her new son had gone out of town for a week or so, a week that had lasted seventeen years without them realising. He'd gone to Boston and when he discovered she'd moved on his leg had cramped. He'd dismissed it at the time, but it happened again and again, and his legs had darkened as though he'd been tanning. He saw the first hint of wood grain in New York, when he'd followed Neal around for two days to make sure Emma wasn't with him, and he'd freaked out so badly he'd ended up a guest in a mental hospital for three months. When he got out, the trail had gone cold. Arthritic agony had shot up his fingers then, and he'd realised that his body was reacting to the gnawing of his conscience and redoubled his efforts. He'd abandoned Emma, had her thrown in prison and now he'd lost her son. He marvelled that it was taking this long to change back with that kind of guilt weighed him down.

And now he'd found her, and in his frantic desire to enlist her in her destiny, he'd driven her away completely. He had no hold on her attention the way Henry would have, and God knew where the kid was? One way or another, he had to get her to Storybrooke, to her family. They might not remember her, but maybe her parents would have an impact on her the way he never could. He'd have to get her there, but how?

 

Emma looked over her new office with pride. She and Mike were officially business partners, and they'd moved into the office at the start of the week. Mike had brought over his existing clients and Emma's stomach was healed enough to take on contracts again. She looked at the desk, empty except for a phone, a notepad and a brass plate engraved with her name and the words Recovery Services.

"Wow," she breathed.

"Yeah, it's something, ain't it?" Mike chuckled from his own desk opposite. They had hired a secretary who was stationed in the outer office, and long term they planned to take on more employees, but for the moment it was just her and Mike, surveying the business they'd built. Mike's desk matched hers and he had a similar nameplate, with the words Investigation Services proudly displayed.

"It's something," Emma agreed.

The moment was broken by Emma's phone ringing, and she jumped.

"Better get that," Mike grinned. "All that money we've invested's gonna go to waste otherwise."

Emma sat down at her desk and took a breath, then lifted the receiver.

"Emma Swan, recovery. How can I help?"

 

Her first case had gone smoothly. Some college kid had taken off from campus just before mid-term break and his over-protective mother wasn’t getting anywhere with the police. Emma could see what had happened from a mile away, but a paycheck was a paycheck. His roommate tried to cover, but coughed up the address of a hotel in Brunswick. Emma scoffed at the kid’s idea of a fun town to spend his vacation in, drove over and stuffed the kid in the pickup she’d bought for work, making sure his stoner friends heard how worried his mother had been. She’d dropped the kid and her invoice off with the mother and headed back to the office, smiling to herself.

She pulled into the parking structure and killed the engine, stretching gratefully as she slid out of the cab. She hadn’t quite broken the truck in yet, and a day behind the wheel had left her aching, so she took the stairs up to the office rather than the elevator, climbing two at a time to stretch her stiff legs. She entered the outer office and smiled as the secretary, a young, painfully polite man called Jamie, handed her a stack of paperwork. That was one part of the new business she was slowly getting used to. Emma had a good memory and had kept very few paper records as a solo hunter, but Mike had insisted on writing everything up. The paperwork was scanned into the computer and the hard copies stored offsite, just in case.

Emma wrote up the case, which didn’t take long, and glanced at the bottom sheet Jamie had given her. Emma had felt the urge to go chasing a bad guy, so she’d asked him to find her a juicy bounty. Judging from what he’d presented her with, pickings were slim.

“Huh, don’t tell me every scumbag in Maine decided to make their court date?” She mused ruefully.

She scanned to the bottom of the sheet and a name jumped out at her.

** August Booth: failed to appear to answer charges of breaking and entering, destruction of property, theft of city property and assault. **

“Son of a bitch!” She hadn’t heard from the fairy-tale freak since their meeting in the diner almost three weeks previously, but more postcards had caught up to her. She’d learned never to let an opportunity pass her by. Since innocent people didn’t jump bail, if she could get him before a judge, the system would hopefully keep him out of her life for a good long while, especially if he started spouting his delusional nonsense.

“No parole in the psych ward, _Pinocchio_ ,” she grinned, and picked up the phone to call her contact at the courthouse for information. As she dialled, she called through to the outer office.

“Jamie, tell Mike I’m taking a bounty. I think I know where the guy’s headed.”

“Where?” Jamie called back.

“Some place called Storybrooke.”


	3. Chapter Two

August was right, Storybrooke wasn’t on the map. In the end Emma went back to the diner she’d met him in and asked around, eventually coming to the conclusion that it was on the coast somewhere, so she’d jumped back into the truck and taken the most direct route to the ocean her GPS could find. Following a whim, she turned north and soon found herself on a single road in the middle of a forest that, even to her, didn’t look remotely coastal. After forty minutes or so she began to wonder exactly what the hell she was doing and considered turning back and hoping her new stalker would leave her alone, but for some reason the impulse to keep driving was too strong. Another quarter of an hour passed and her perseverance was rewarded in the form of a cheerful sign bearing the greeting “Welcome to Storybrooke”.

The town was small, but fairly busy. Emma parked the truck by the diner and sauntered in, hungry after her trip, and was immediately greeted by the waitress.

“Hi, welcome to Granny’s. I’m Ruby. Get you something to drink?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Coffee? Soda? We have beer,” Ruby grinned and Emma found herself smiling in response.

“Coffee, please, and a club sandwich would be great.”

“Coming up. Have a seat, I’ll bring it over.”

Emma slid into a booth, facing the door through long habit, and studied her surroundings. There were a few people having coffee or reading the paper, but the place was quiet. After a few minutes, her lunch arrived.

“Club sandwich and coffee,” Ruby announced, setting down a plate and mug.

“Thanks. Hey, are you free to talk for a minute?”

“Sure,” Ruby replied, sliding into the booth with a sigh of relief.

“I’m looking for a guy-“

“Aren’t we all?” Ruby grinned and Emma smiled back, charmed.

“Unfortunately this guy is of the creeper variety. He’s been stalking me, trying to get me to come here.”

“To Storybrooke? Why?”

“No idea. His name’s August Booth, have you heard of him?”

“Sorry, no. We don’t get many strangers around here though, so you should ask around.”

From the kitchen hatch a bell dinged sharply and an older woman’s voice called out.

“Ruby! Get off your keister and get back here before this soup goes cold!”

Ruby shot her an apologetic look. “Got to go. I can ask around for you at dinner though?”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”

“Are you staying in town? Granny runs the B&B as well.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“I’ll book you a room…?” Ruby raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Emma. Emma Swan.”

“Welcome to Storybrooke, Emma.”

 

Emma finished her lunch, dropped her overnight bag at the bed and breakfast and took a walk through the town, keeping an eye out for her quarry, but mostly just exploring. She browsed the storefronts until she came to the end of Main Street, then turned off and wandered toward the school, reaching it just as the bell was ringing. Kids streamed out, shouting excitedly, and as Emma stood to one side to let the sudden crowd pass, she noticed a teacher following them out. The woman was intent on her students and didn’t notice Emma until they had nearly collided.

“Oh, sorry!” The woman exclaimed, doing a faint double take. “Who are you?”

“Excuse me?” Emma responded.

“I’m sorry!” The woman said again, “That was rude, you just surprised me. We don’t get many visitors. Let me start again. I’m Mary Margaret Blanchard; it’s nice to meet you.” The woman, who looked about a decade younger than her, held out a hand and Emma shook it, frowning as her own hand tingled slightly.

“Emma Swan. I’m just passing through, I’m looking for someone.”

“Oh, are they family, or-?”

Emma snorted. “Hardly. I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Oh, wow! That’s exciting! Hey, would you mind coming to talk to my kids tomorrow? They’d love that! If you’re not busy, that is.”

This must be the friendliest town in Maine, Emma reflected. “Uh sure, unless I find the guy tonight.”

“I’m on my way to the hospital for my volunteer shift. Would you like to come? You can tell me about this man you’re hunting.”

Without quite realising it, Emma allowed herself to be swept along with Mary Margaret’s exuberance. Besides, she reasoned, in her line of work it never hurt to know where the nearest ER was.

 

They arrived at the hospital quickly, having established that Mary Margaret didn’t know August either. Mary Margaret chatted to her as she worked and Emma found herself relaxing, comfortable in the woman’s company in a way she wasn’t often, especially with strangers. After an hour or so, they reached a separate room in which a handsome man lay, unconscious.

“Who’s he?” Emma asked.

“Nobody knows,” Mary Margaret replied sadly. “He was found like this.”

“Nobody’s claimed him?” Emma felt a stab of empathy.

“No. I read to him, and talk to him sometimes, but he’s never so much as twitched a finger. It’s a shame.”

Mary Margaret glanced at her watch. “My shift’s over. Time to go.”

“You hungry?” Emma asked, strangely keen to prolong their conversation.

“Actually yes,” Mary Margaret replied.

“Me too. Dinner’s on me, let’s go.”

Mary Margaret smiled and nodded. As they left, Emma spoke to the unconscious figure on the bed.

“Nice to meet you, buddy. Get well soon.” She gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder and walked out, not noticing as his eyes shot open at her touch.

At the diner, Emma and Mary Margaret talked all through dinner, stopping only when Ruby came over to introduce Emma to the local Sheriff. He promised to keep an eye out for her erstwhile stalker and left for his patrol. Mary Margaret invited Ruby to sit and talk with them and somehow Emma found herself sharing a bottle of wine with two strangers, laughing and talking until late into the night. When Granny finally kicked them out, Emma walked somewhat unsteadily up to her room and climbed into bed, thinking that it wouldn’t be so bad if it took a while to find August.

“I like it here,” she told the empty room and fell asleep.

The next day she met several more residents of her new favourite town, none of whom had heard of August.

“You know,” she told Ruby when she stopped by for lunch, “for a guy who was desperate to get me here, he sure is keeping a low profile.”

Just then, the door to the diner opened and in walked a tall, slim man walking with a cane. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw her, amazement plastered over his face for a second before it was covered and came over to greet her.

“Good morning. I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Mr. Gold.”

“Emma Swan,” Emma replied.

“It’s nice to meet you, Emma. Are you staying in town?”

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Gold was staring hungrily at her, a faint, triumphant smirk edging onto his face, and it was creeping her out. Ruby had gone quiet too and, after only a day of knowing her, Emma knew that was a bad sign.

“Just passing through,” she told him warily.

“Well, better late than never,” he responded cryptically, his tone airy but somehow forced. Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat and it seemed to break his hypnotic gaze.

“Well, I won’t keep you. Enjoy your lunch, ladies.”

He turned and left, still smiling oddly.

“That was weird,” Emma commented and Ruby shuddered.

“He gives me the creeps,” she declared.

“Who is he?”

“He runs the pawn shop. “ Ruby’s tone implied that was code for something, but Emma couldn’t think what.

“Remind me not to go there. Listen, thanks for lunch, I’m gonna swing by the town hall, see if there are any records of my guy. Is there a clerk or someone I should ask?”

“Nah, normally it’s just the Mayor, but she’s out of town, so you’ll have to find ‘em yourself.”

“Great,” Emma glared at Ruby, who grinned unrepentantly. Emma paid for her meal and left.

The route to the town hall took her past the boarded-up library and as she passed it she heard footsteps inside. She stopped.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

 

The back door was ajar, the boards pried loose from the frame. She walked silently through the empty stacks, unsnapping the holster on her taser just in case. She turned a corner into the non-fiction aisle and there he was. Emma drew the taser and pointed at him and he cowered slightly.

“Don’t shoot! Emma please, listen! Don’t you feel it?”

“You’re a wanted man, buddy. Walk over here, slowly.” She glared at him.

“Emma, please! Don’t you see how wrong things are here?”

“No. Walk over, slowly, turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“Have you asked anyone about the Mayor yet?” August demanded.

“She’s out of town, so what?”

“She’s been ‘out of town’ for seventeen years! Ever since she adopted your son!”

Emma strongly considered just shooting him.

“For God’s sake Emma, you must feel it! The clocks are moving, it’s happening!”

“Of course the clocks are moving. Listen, August,” she said, attempting a kind tone, “you’re sick, okay? You need to come back with me and get help.”

“I…maybe you’re right. Maybe I am crazy.” He slumped against a bookshelf, defeated. “Okay, I’ll come. Just please, promise me you’ll come back here. I’ll never bother you again, just promise me!”

“I promise, August,” she reassured him, thinking that it might be a promise she kept. “I like it here.”

“Okay,” he seemed reassured and allowed her to cuff him without incident. She secured him in the truck with a steel bar installed for just that purpose and drove over to drop her key off at the bed and breakfast.

“You’re leaving?” Ruby asked, the corners of her mouth turning down in displeasure.

“I found him, so yeah. I had fun though.”

“Me too. Hey, we’re having a town fair soon, you should come back for that.”

Emma smiled. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

 

When they had first returned from Storybrooke, Regina had set about repairing the damage done by her curse. The people not taken to Storybrooke had been left frozen in time while the towns and farms had crumbled, so her first order of business had been finding a way to release them without undoing her curse and returning her hated step-daughter. She had spent weeks in her library, usually with Henry sleeping against her chest, feeling his tiny body grow day by day. Finally she’d found the way to free her subjects and her work had begun in earnest. Gathering up her most steadfast followers, she had ridden the length and breadth of the land, supervising the reconstruction effort personally. Seeing their fierce, ruthless queen with a newborn had thrown people, so she made it a habit to send riders ahead of her to spread the word of the new prince. For the first 18 months of Henry’s life, she travelled almost non-stop, rebuilding not only her kingdom, but the trust, loyalty and respect of those she’d abandoned.

When Henry was two, he’d asked for a bedtime story and somehow Regina had found herself telling her own tale.

“A long time ago, when I was young, I loved a man named Daniel.”

“That’s my name too!”

“I know, baby,” she smiled as Henry snuggled deeper into her arms.

“We loved each other very much. One day, when we were together in the stables, we heard someone shouting for help.”

“You helped, Mommy?”

“Yes, I did. I ran out and there was a girl on a horse. The horse was scared, like Mama’s horse got scared last week, do you remember?”

“Horsie got scared,” Henry nodded, eyes wide with remembered fear.

“That’s right. But I calmed the horse down, and the girl was saved.”

“Yay Mommy!”

“The girl’s name was Snow White, and her father was so glad she was saved that he wanted to marry me, but I loved Daniel and I didn’t want to marry Snow White’s father.”

“What did you do?” Henry asked, and Regina took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

“Daniel and I planned to run away, but before we could, Snow White told…an evil witch that we were in love. The witch killed Daniel, and made me marry the king.”

“Oh no!” Henry hugged Regina, more in response to the pain in her voice than the story.

“I was sad for a long time, baby. I didn’t want to be married to the king, but the evil witch and the king were stronger than me, so I had to marry him.”

“No-one stronger than you, Mommy!”

“I was very young, Henry. So I waited and I got stronger, and I killed the evil witch!”

“Bad witch!” Henry shouted.

“But I still had to marry the king and live with him and Snow White.”

“Even though she told the witch?” Henry’s childish outrage on her behalf made her smile.

“Yes, Henry.”

“What did you do?”

“I found a genie that would help me. He wanted me to be free of the king, so the genie killed him for me.”

“And then you were free?”

“Yes, Henry.”

He was started to drift off, so Regina tucked him in and kissed him good night. As she was leaving, he spoke, sleepily.

“What happened to Snow White, Mommy?”

She paused. She hadn’t thought about Storybrooke for a long time. A sense of vicious satisfaction washed through her.

“I sent her away, baby; somewhere she could never hurt me again.”

“Good,” Henry pronounced sleepily. “Love you.”

“I love you too. Go to sleep now, little one.”

Regina assumed Henry would forget the story, but he asked for it again the next night and the night after. It became his favourite bedtime story and over time, as the pain of telling it faded, became little more than a story to Regina.

 

When Henry was four, he found a sack in the river with five kittens and a rock in it. Three were already dead, but two were barely clinging to life. He raced up the riverbank to where his mother sat preparing a picnic for them and thrust the limp, wet creatures at her.

“Mommy!” He sobbed.

Regina looked at the kittens with distaste and laid them on the ground.

“I’m sorry, Henry. That’s what people do to unwanted cats.”

Henry wailed and picked up the smallest kitten, cradling it gently in his arms and reaching out to stroke the other one.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothed as the tiny bodies twitched.

Unable to bear his distress, Regina reached out and covered Henry’s hand. Purple energy flowed from her and into the kittens and, after a few seconds, the larger kitten opened its eyes and let out a tiny noise. The one Henry held twitched a paw, unsheathing its claws to knead fruitlessly at the air.

“There, baby. They’re alright. Calm down now, Henry, look!”

Henry’s tears slowed as he gazed up at his mother in awe.

“You saved them! You can do magic!”

“Well of course-” Regina stopped as she realised that she hadn’t used magic, hadn’t needed to use magic, since she’d stopped actively participating in reconstruction efforts, more than two years previously.

“Can I do magic too, Mommy?” he asked, but was immediately distracted by the kittens, which had recovered from their ordeal and were now climbing all over him. He laughed as a tiny paw batted at his fingers and Regina frowned.

“We’re not keeping them, Henry,” she warned sternly.

His face fell.

“But Mommy, what if someone else tries to hurt them?” He argued. “If they lived with us, they’d be safe! No-one would hurt the queen’s cats!”

“No, Henry.” She repeated.

He relented, but there was a stubborn look on his face that let her know she hadn’t won this fight yet.

“Okay,” he sulked for a moment and then brightened as a thought struck him.

“So can I?”

“Can you what?” Regina asked, absentmindedly stroking a kitten as it rubbed its face against her leg.

“Do magic!” Henry exclaimed, wiggling his fingers determinedly.

“No, baby,” Regina said gently.

“Why not? You can!”

Regina tried not to swear.

“Do you remember Snow White?”

Henry’s face screwed up into a scowl.

“You sent her away!”

“That’s right, to a land without magic, remember?”

“So she could never come back,” Henry agreed.

“Well, when I sent her, I went to that land to build her prison. While I was there, I got lonely, so I asked Rumpel…I asked a man I knew to find me the most handsome, smartest, kindest, bravest boy in all the land. Do you know who he brought me?”

“Who?” Henry asked earnestly.

“You,” Regina told him, kissing him on the nose to make him giggle. “You were born in that land, Henry, but the woman who gave birth to you couldn’t keep you, even though you were the most perfect boy, so she gave you to me and I brought you home with me. That’s why you can’t do magic.”

“So I have another Mommy?”

Regina inhaled sharply. “No, baby. I’m your Mommy.”

“But…I don’t understand,” Henry complained.

“That’s okay, sweetie. We can talk about it again when you’re a bit bigger.”

“Okay,” Henry agreed, apparently willing to leave the subject alone, and went back to playing with the kittens.

“Henry,” Regina warned sternly, “They have to go.”

Two days later, Regina found the kittens curled up at the foot of Henry’s bed. She sighed, resigned herself to having pets and informed her Lord Chamberlain that she would be drafting animal cruelty laws. She warned Henry that if they misbehaved they’d go back in the river, but he just giggled and hugged her tightly.

 

Thirteen years passed. Regina taught Henry to ride, passing on her love of horses, and as he grew old enough she told him more about his origins. His bedtime story became a history lesson and although he couldn’t wield magic, he learned about its uses and limitations, benefits and drawbacks. Regina was determined that he should never find himself helpless in the face of magic, as she had been on the day Daniel died.

To her relief, as she told Henry the parts of the story she had omitted when he was younger; her manipulation of the genie; the fact that the witch was her own mother, he supported her actions all the more. She taught him about the war, how she had joined forces with King George and how her own rage had brought about her temporary downfall before her eventual triumph. She taught him the value of patience, the advantage of keeping his temper and using his emotions to further his goals rather than direct his actions. She taught him about Rumpelstiltskin and the need to consider others’ motives. Henry became a skilled swordsman and archer and as he approached manhood, she involved him in the day-to-day affairs of running the kingdom. He learned how to rule with a firm hand without inciting resentment, when to show mercy and when to strike hard. Every mistake she had made as queen was incorporated into his education and as the years passed and he grew into a fine young man, Regina was filled with love and fierce pride in her son.

Henry’s birthday was fast approaching. A national day of celebration had been declared and people were flocking to the castle and surrounding city to join in the festivities as the young prince officially became a man. Henry himself had been out hunting for two days, mainly in order to avoid the spectacle for as long as possible. Regina had smiled when he’d made the request, barely managing not to roll his eyes at the activity bustling around him.

He returned on foot, his horse dragging a rough pallet on which a magnificent stag lay. Regina met him in the courtyard.

“Welcome home, Prince Henry,” she said formally, and he bowed deeply in response, aware of the eyes of visiting subjects on them.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I present you with the bounty of the royal forests, to honour you on this joyous day.” Regina was impressed at his apparent sincerity.

“Your gift is gratefully received,” she responded. “Leave it here, and walk with me.”

The head hostler took the reins of his horse and Henry fell into step with his mother. As soon as the castle doors shut behind them, he smiled.

“Hi Mom,” he said. “I came back.”

“I was starting to wonder if you were going to stay out there all week,” she chastised him gently.

“And miss the party?” He asked sarcastically, sighing deeply.

“Wash up and get changed. The feast starts in two hours, and you’re making a speech.”

“Mom!” He whined.

“No arguments, Henry. Go!”

He slouched off, pouting. Regina smiled, thinking to herself that teenage boys were the same everywhere, even a prince adopted from another world.

 

The party was in full swing. Regina sat to one side of the great hall, nursing a goblet of wine and reflecting on how much her life had changed. Where once the ceilings of her castle had echoed to her lonely footsteps, now her son stood at the centre of a crowd of soldiers and townspeople, telling some story that had them roaring with laughter, as dozens more people danced and ate. Where once her servants had tiptoed and cringed their way through the castle, now they smiled at her as they refilled her goblet and offered her a sweet pastry. Her nation was prospering and her borders expanding as her people spread into what was once George’s and then Snow’s kingdom. Twenty years ago her only thought had been to avenge herself upon Snow White and in all probability die in the process. Her vengeance was long since achieved and in raising a son and ruling her lands, she’d found the kind of peace she hadn’t known since childhood.

As the clocks crept towards midnight, Henry called for silence.

“Hello everyone!” he shouted. A cheer went up from the crowd.

“In a few moments it will be midnight, and I’ll be seventeen!” He grinned, flushed from his first night of drinking. Officially, anyway. Regina was fairly sure some of his martial training had involved learning how to hide a hangover.

“I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for coming. Cheers!” Another cheer rang through the hall.

“I also want to make a toast to my mother,” Henry said, and Regina’s eyebrows rose as the collective gaze of the room landed on her. To her horror, one of Henry’s blasted cats jumped into her lap and demanded attention, drawing chuckles from the crowd. She briefly considered wringing the animal’s neck.

“Your Majesty,” Henry addressed her, as mugs and tankards were lifted across the room, “On this most joyful of days, I salute you. To the Queen!”

“The Queen!” the crowd responded, and as the clocks began to strike, Henry raised his own glass in salutation and smiled at her. As he raised it to his lips, however, he paused and frowned. His expression became somewhat dazed as he raised his free hand to eye level and stared at it. Concerned, Regina rose to her feet and moved towards him. Her hands began to tingle as she approaching him and when he met her gaze his eyes were no longer brown, they were deep purple.

“Mom?” He asked, sounding scared. She reached out to him and as their skin touched, everything went white.

When Regina woke, her head was pounding. She lay on a bench surrounded by guards. Magic fizzed in the air around her and she frantically looked around for Henry, finding him on the floor a few feet away being attended to by her physician.

“Henry!” She scrambled up, not noticing the hands that reached out to aid her as her guards shifted to keep her within their protective ring. The hall was mostly empty save for a few brave souls who had stayed to watch.

Regina reached her son and dropped to her knees, wincing as her joints protested their rough treatment. Although she saw no need to appear her actual age, occasionally her body reminded her that magic could only do so much.

“What happened?” She demanded. “Is my son alright?”

The doctor jumped to his feet. “He’s fine, your Majesty.”

“What happened?” Regina asked again.

“I’m not sure. From what witnesses have told me, it sounds like some sort of magical outburst.”

“That’s impossible,” Regina stated flatly. Henry groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead, apparently suffering the same headache as her.

“Mom?” he called weakly.

“I’m here, baby.” She took his hand, not caring about their audience, and felt the tingle of raw power flow from her son. Her jaw dropped.

“I feel weird,” Henry complained, screwing his eyes up against the torchlight. It took Regina a moment to collect herself before she could reply.

“I’m not surprised. What do you remember?” She asked carefully.

“I remember…hunting, then the party. I remember being happy, feeling really good, like I was going to burst. I felt kind of tingly…” his voice trailed off into another groan. “Don’t feel tingly anymore,” he observed bitterly.

“Henry, baby…”

One of Henry’s tightly closed eyes opened, staring worriedly at her.

“You used magic.” Regina told him. He sat bolt upright, headache forgotten.

“That’s impossible, Mom.”

“I know!” She snapped, and he winced.

“People in this world often discover they can use magic in moments of heightened emotion,” Henry recited dully, remembering his training. “I can’t use magic because I’m not from this world. Could you have done it by accident?”

He was too distracted to see her momentary devastation at the thought, but she quickly shook her head.

“No, Henry, I saw it happen to you. I felt it happen! It came from you!” She stopped abruptly and beckoned the captain of the guard over.

“Clear the room. Make sure no news of this spreads. Keep the party going, I don’t want to start rumours.”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted and began giving orders to his men. Soon Regina and Henry were alone but for the doctor, who watched Henry unobtrusively from nearby.

“Mom?” He said, leaning into her as she wrapped him in a hug.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “You were born in the other world, I’m sure of it. No-one in Storybrooke gave birth, the curse wouldn’t allow it, but if you have magic…” she trailed off.

“Then the woman who gave birth to me is from our world.” Henry finished.

“Someone who wasn’t caught by the curse, someone from our land…oh no.” Regina’s eyes widened. “I’d forgotten about her.”

“Who? Mom?”

“The timing fits, she’d have been old enough to give birth.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Did he know? How could he? He wasn’t supposed to remember anything!”  Regina was becoming frantic.

“Why would he-“

“MOM!” Henry shouted. “What’s going on?”

Regina took a deep breath.

“Let me think about this, Henry. Maybe there’s another explanation, maybe Rumpelstiltskin knew about that world because others had gone there before.”

“Mom-“

“Just let me think, Henry! Go to the infirmary; let the doctor look at you.”

Henry stared at her for a moment and then stood and allowed a guard to support him as he limped away.

_It can’t be,_ Regina thought frantically, but her mind presented her with image of Rumpelstiltskin grinning with twisted happiness.

_Oh yes it can, dearie, and why not? All these years, you’d forgotten about that poor baby, sent out into that harsh world alone. What’s one more innocent life ruined, eh?_

_A loose end,_ Regina thought, dismissing the imp from her thoughts. _And if I’m right, Henry is her son. And…_

She felt rage building in her as it hadn’t done for years. The power that Henry had called forth hummed through her veins and crackled in the air around her.

“Snow White’s grandson.”


	4. Chapter Three

When Regina followed Henry to the medical quarters she found him sitting on a cot, patiently submitting to the doctor’s examination.

“Mom!” He exclaimed as she entered, “The doctor says I’m fine. Can we get back to the party now?”

Regina glanced at the doctor and received a nod in confirmation. Carefully suppressing her turmoil, she teased her son.

“Now you want to go the party?” She smiled at him.

“Anything is better than being poked at! Besides,” his face grew serious, “the people need to see me healthy. The Prince collapsed at his own party, you know rumour will spread. We need to get ahead of it.” 

Regina looked at her son carefully. She saw a young man, nearly four inches taller than her with dark bristles beginning to show on his jaw. Tonight Regina was supposed to show the kingdom that her son had reached manhood, but instead he was showing her. He was an accomplished warrior and evidently learning to be an astute politician, but Regina found herself missing the boy that had, simply by existing, drained the rage that had motivated her for much of her adult life. 

She had her suspicions about his biological heritage, but no way to know for sure. Rumpelstiltskin had said Henry’s birth mother was imprisoned, so even if she were right, it would only mean that Regina had exacted an even greater revenge; Snow trapped, her daughter a criminal, and her grandson at Regina’s side. She smiled.

“You’re absolutely right, Henry. Would the Prince care to accompany his Queen to the party?” 

As Henry rose gratefully off the bunk, he gave a courteous bow and extended his arm for her to take.

“I would be honoured, Your Majesty.”

They walked back to the hall and stopped outside the double doors as the herald entered ahead of them. Henry turned his head, cracking his neck loudly and assumed a regal bearing; straight-backed and stern. Regina looked at her son, the very image of a prince, and decided not to worry about his connection to her past. 

Inside the hall a short fanfare played and they were announced. The double doors opened and together they entered, arm in arm. The crowd was hushed and most people were staring at Henry. Regina stepped away from him and toward the raised dais that held her throne. She addressed the crowd.

“Thank you for your patience. What happened earlier was a shock to all of us. It seems Prince Henry has discovered the ability to harness magic. As you can imagine, I’m very proud of him and I’m sure he is equally excited to learn that his birthday no longer marks the end of his formal training.”

The crowd chuckled at the sudden pained look on Henry’s face and began to relax. Regina gestured for him to join her and he strode onto the dais, careful to project a strong, healthy, confident demeanour.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said, injecting his tone with as much sarcasm as he could get away with in public, and the atmosphere lightened further. Regina watched him as he judged the mood of the crowd and smiled widely.

“This discovery is a boon to the kingdom, and deserves to be celebrated. You’ve all waited long enough, so let’s get back to the party!” 

His words were met with a loud cheer. As he stepped down, he was engulfed by a group of soldiers, one of whom pressed a tankard into his hand. Regina gestured to the musicians and soon the hall was filled with music, conversation and laughter and people’s momentary fright was forgotten.

 

The party continued until well into the next morning. Regina had retired to bed some time before dawn, but Henry stayed up, talking with soldiers and farmers, merchants and nobles, shaking hands and sharing drinks until the last revellers had either left or found a quiet corner to fall asleep. As the palace staff began to trickle in and clear up, Henry made his way to the library. He’d taken many lessons here; history, cartography, geography, politics. He’d learned that power must be understood to be used correctly and that magic had drawbacks. He’d never expected to wield it, knowing where he came from, and now he was in possession of a tool that he didn’t know how to use.

His mother would teach him, but would she tell him how he got it? He’d never seen her rattled the way she had been when he woke up on the floor of the hall, and although she’d calmed down by the time she came to him in the infirmary, he had been aware of her attention on him through the rest of the night. 

He reviewed what he knew. His mother had gone to a land without magic in order to imprison Snow White. While there, she had enlisted Rumpelstiltskin to find her a child, and adopted him. Any of the traitors she had taken would have been prevented from giving birth by the curse, so he must have been born to someone else, possibly someone sent there before the curse was cast.

Henry went to the shelves containing the recent historical records and browsed through the documents, looking for any that might contain evidence of travel to other worlds. He wrote a few likely-looking titles down, folded the list into his pocket and headed for his chambers, aware that he was in no state for serious research after a long party and a lot of ale.

He fell ungracefully into bed and stared up at the canopy frame, letting his mind wander. If he thought about it, he was aware of the magic under his skin; a slight tingle that was more potential than anything. He vaguely sensed the currents of power around him and remembered his mother describing it to him as a child.

“What does magic feel like?” He’d asked.

“Like walking through the ocean,” she’d replied after a moment’s thought, “it’s all around me, even inside me, and I can channel it and use it, but not control it. It’s so much bigger than I could ever be.”

“Can anyone control it?” He’d been awed at the idea of something more powerful than his mother.

“Perhaps the Dark One or some of those wretched fairies – creatures born out of magic, made of magic.”

Thoughts of his mother led him back to his dilemma. Magic was a powerful tool and if he could learn to use it with the kind of skill his mother had he would be a fearsome opponent, but without knowing where it came from, could he ever really trust it?

He fell asleep.

 

Weeks passed and, as promised, his mother taught him to use his new abilities. She held nothing back and Henry was a little un-nerved at some of what she knew.

“You can pull people’s hearts out,” he asked incredulously, “and they don’t die?”

“Yes.” Regina shifted under his gaze and he got the impression she was ashamed. “If you hold someone’s heart, they belong to you. You control them.”

Henry hesitated. “I thought when your mother took Daniel’s heart, it killed him?”

“She chose to kill him, Henry. She crushed his heart into dust.” Her voice became tight and he touched her arm in silent apology. 

As time passed and his skill grew, Regina taught Henry the most advanced, most dangerous magic she knew, but always with a warning not to use it unless absolutely necessary. Henry soaked up the lessons, increasing his control and skill, but still the origins of his power troubled him.

Regina had spoken extensively about her dealings with Rumpelstiltskin and he appeared with alarming frequency in the historical records. The Dark One made deals, he didn’t give gifts, and the deals always had a price, but he had found Regina a son and asked for no payment in return. His mother assured him that Mr Gold, as he was known in the other world, had no memory of who he was and therefore no reason to do otherwise. However, his mother had also told him about the curse; it altered people’s memories, not their natures. Henry doubted whether Rumpelstiltskin would give his mother a son and expect or extract nothing in return, even without his memories.

His birth mother came from this world and he was found by the Dark One and adopted by someone from this world. It couldn’t be a coincidence; everything he’d learned about the Dark One told him that. He couldn’t trust that this power he now possessed would benefit the kingdom without knowing where it came from. He needed answers. He needed to talk to Rumpelstiltskin.

Finally, after months of training, Regina had taught Henry as much as she could. It had taken much less time than her education with Rumpelstiltskin, as Henry had learned the principles of magic as a child and had only to grasp the practice of it. Despite his misgivings, Henry was learning to enjoy the power. He had taken the heart of his favourite horse, as Regina had under Rumpelstiltskin’s tutelage, but had placed it carefully in the vault to keep it safe. Already loyal, the horse had become absolutely devoted to Henry and unwilling to allow any other hand on its rein. This was discovered when a stable-boy was almost killed by the enraged horse, using its battle training to kick, trample and bite at the hapless servant. Henry found the half dead boy attempting to crawl away from the stall and had used his magic in an emergency for the first time, healing his wounds as his mother had healed the kittens so long ago.

The fact that magic had both caused the emergency and repaired the damage was not lost on Henry. He returned the horse’s heart to its usual place immediately and redoubled his determination to find a way to Storybrooke and the answers he sought.

His search led him to study the curse his mother had cast on her enemies in detail. It had taken only those she wanted to punish, so clearly it was possible to control the journey, but the more he studied it, the more he wondered if punishment was the right term. The curse had made Snow White and the other traitors forget who they were, it had rendered them powerless and had prevented them from being truly happy, but that was it. They were alive, free and unharmed and from what his mother had told him of the time she had spent there before adopting him, lived fairly comfortable existences. 

He had seen his mother order criminals be executed without hesitation. There had been a string of murders nearby a few years previously and when the culprit had been found Regina had killed him herself and shown no emotions other than fury and satisfaction. He knew his mother hated Snow White and her cohorts, so why would she be so…merciful? From what he had discovered, she had cursed them to live their lives feeling a mild sense of disappointment and loneliness, both of which were easily obtained without magical intervention.

He kept looking. He would find a way to Storybrooke, get some answers from the Dark One and if he brought back Snow White’s head as a gift for his mother, all the better.

 

Emma didn’t make it back for the fair. The next month she invited Mary Margaret and Ruby to Boston for the weekend, but when Ruby’s car blew a gasket before they’d even left town, Emma jumped in her truck right away. She felt a strange draw to the town that she wasn’t willing to think about too closely. Despite being a grown woman with several years of therapy between her and the difficulties of her childhood, she still struggled with the idea that it was okay to want things and to enjoy them when she had them. The fact that both Ruby and particularly Mary Margaret enjoyed her company and actively sought it out both baffled her and filled her with a fierce, proud joy that she tried desperately not to acknowledge.

Emma pulled the truck up at Granny’s, sparing a thought for her beloved Bug as she carefully manoeuvred the large vehicle. As she opened the door and grabbed her overnight bag, Ruby came loping over, smiling broadly.

“Emma, welcome back!” Emma found herself enveloped in a friendly hug. She stiffened as the urge to retreat fought with a kind of shy pleasure. Ruby noticed her discomfort and stepped back, still smiling.

“Not a hugger, huh?”

“Sorry,” Emma scowled and refused to blush.

“No problem. Listen, drop your stuff upstairs, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Uh – sure.”

She went inside and received her key from Granny, who peered familiarly at her over the top of her glasses and simply said “Welcome back.”

Emma set her bag on the foot of the bed and went back downstairs. Outside the B&B, Ruby was sat on a bench with a heavily pregnant girl who looked painfully young to Emma. Ruby waved her over.

“Emma, this is Ashley; Ashley, Emma.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Emma smiled as Ashley shook her hand.

“You too,” Ashley smiled back.

“Ashley’s coming out with us tonight,” Ruby informed her, “she is in serious need of a break.”

Emma had recognised the aura of barely restrained terror around the girl and viciously shoved any comparisons away. Her run-in with August the previous month had made her some new friends, but it had also opened old wounds. She’d caught herself thinking about the baby she’d given up more than once. He’d be seventeen now, old enough to be thinking about college. With the skill of long practice, she changed the mental subject.

“That’s great! I have to drive tomorrow so I’ll keep you company with some soda.”

Ruby pouted, but didn’t argue.

“Mary Margaret’s gonna meet us at eight, she’s having an early dinner with her new beau.”

Emma’s eyebrow rose.

“There’s a new beau?”

“Oh that’s right, you weren’t here!” Ruby exclaimed. “You know the comatose guy she reads to in the hospital? He woke up!”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, but he’s a total amnesiac. Doesn’t even know his name! Mary Margaret came by the day after he woke up and was talking to the doc about it and somehow she ended up going to dinner with him.”

“The amnesiac guy? Isn’t that weird?” Emma asked, brow knitting.

“No, Dr. Whale!”

“Dr. Whale? Is that even his real name?” Emma scoffed, and Ashley giggled.

“Look who’s talking, Miss Swan!”

Emma grimaced. She considered explaining that she’d been abandoned as a baby and that her surname had been assigned to her, but she didn’t want to wreck the mood.

“I’m starving and this little one is squirming like crazy, so can we eat?” Ashley announced, caressing her swollen stomach lovingly.

They trooped off towards the diner. Ashley became a bit more animated after eating, her original shyness falling away to reveal a wicked sense of humour. Emma saw why Ruby liked her so much.

“Okay,” Ruby declared shortly before Mary Margaret arrived, “you two can stay on soda but we have to get Mary Margaret to loosen up a little. She’s so nervous about dating the doc!”

Emma grinned. “That’s easy. Make it a rule that you have to drink anything that sounds like your name. Order lots of Bloody Marys and Margaritas.”

Ruby and Ashley stared at her, smiles spreading slowly over their faces.

“You,” Ashley informed her, lifting her water glass in toast, “are a genius.”

 

Several hours later, Emma’s plan was a success.

“Who knew she could belly dance?” Ashley asked rhetorically, a wide smile on her face.

Emma laughed. “Dr. Whale, maybe?”

Ruby came back to the table, flushed and panting.

“Come dance!” She implored, but Ashley’s smile faded and her hand dropped to her belly. Emma glanced at Ruby significantly.

“We’re okay right now,” she said, and Ruby hesitated briefly, but nodded and returned to Mary Margaret on the dance floor.

“Hey, you okay?” Emma asked gently.

“Yeah,” Ashley replied, sounding close to tears. 

“I’d hate to see you on a bad day then,” Emma observed, “c’mon, let’s get some air.”

They retreated outside and Ashley began to sniffle.

“I saw Sean today,” she said. Emma assumed Sean was the father.

“He wouldn’t even look at me!” Ashley sobbed and Emma suddenly found herself with an armful of crying pregnant lady.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she soothed frantically. “Tell me about Sean.”

Twenty minutes later, Emma was fighting the urge to find Sean and punch his lights out. She reminded herself – again – that Sean wasn’t Neal and hugged Ashley gingerly.

“If you want this kid you don’t need Sean, but if you like, your new scary bounty hunter friend could have a talk with him about his responsibilities,” she offered, receiving a watery smile and a shaken head in return.

“Ruby was right, you really do need a break,” she said, smiling gently. Ashley gave a half-desperate laugh and wiped her eyes.

“Yeah, I do.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Emma assured her.

“How do you know?” Ashley asked, half hopeful and half angry.

Emma paused. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about this anymore, but the kid really needed some hope.

“Because I got through it and so can you.”

Ashley stared at her.

“You had a kid? How old were you, twelve?”

“Thank you, and no,” Emma replied sardonically. “I was eighteen and in prison because the dad left me holding stolen goods and skipped town.”

Ashley stared at her, jaw dropped.

“Did…did you keep it?”

“No,” Emma replied. “I gave him up for adoption. Signed the papers before he was even born.”

“Do you wish you hadn’t?”

The question hit her like a punch and she was about to retort sharply, but she noticed Ashley was staring at the swell of her belly with guilt plastered all over her face.

She considered her response.

“I gave him his best chance,” she said, “and that wasn’t me.”

Ashley’s expression turned desperate again.

“Mr. Gold says he can find a good home, but I haven’t talked to Sean and he –“

“Whoa, Ashley. Mr. Gold, as in the creepy guy who runs the pawn shop?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he an adoption lawyer on the side?” Emma demanded.

“Well, no, but – “

“Then he has absolutely no business with you, do you hear me? If you don’t want to raise this kid that’s okay, but you can’t just hand it off to anyone that asks!”

“I know that, but he…” Ashley’s tone was helpless.

“Did he pressure you into a deal?” Emma asked, gentling her tone once more.

“I don’t know, I don’t really remember.”

“Okay kid, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go back inside and have some fun, then in the morning I’m going to have a talk with Mr. Gold, then Sean, and maybe drop by the sheriff’s office, okay?”

“I…okay,” Ashley agreed.

The rest of the night wasn’t a huge amount of fun for Emma as she stewed over the apparent illegal adoption, but Ashley seemed to relax, having shared her worries. The four of them called it a night around one and traipsed back to Mary Margaret’s apartment to watch cheesy movies.

The next morning Emma woke at dawn and slipped out, leaving her three companions in the odd pile they’d fallen asleep in.

Gold’s shop wasn’t open yet so she went over to Sean’s place. He opened the door in vest and boxers, wiping his eyes blearily.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“A friend of Ashley’s,” Emma replied, gratified to see Sean start paying attention.

“Is she okay?” he asked frantically. His concern was genuine and Emma did some mental re-adjustment.

“Physically, yes.” She stared pointedly at him. His shoulders slumped and he glanced fearfully over his shoulder, back into the house.

“Can you give her a message? My dad won’t let me near her.”

“Your dad won’t…how old are you, kid?”

“Eighteen.”

“So you’re an adult. You’re a father, Sean. Ashley’s so desperate and so alone that she’s selling your kid to Mr Gold.”

“What?!”

“She loves you and she loves that baby, but she can’t do this alone. So, what’s more important? What your father says, or what your daughter needs?”

“It’s…it’s a girl?”

“Ashley showed me the sonogram last night.”

Sean’s jaw worked soundlessly for a moment.

“I have a daughter? I have a...I have a daughter. Oh God, I gotta stop her! I gotta talk to Gold, I-“

“I’ll deal with Gold,” she told him, “you deal with your father and then go talk to Ashley. She’s at Mary Margaret’s apartment.”

Sean nodded and slammed the door. Emma heard him shouting for his father as she walked away, and smiled.

She stopped at Granny’s briefly for a coffee and walked over to the sheriff station.

“Excuse me, are you Graham?”

The Sheriff started at her voice.

“Uh yeah, yes! Hi, sorry, I’m not used to people visiting this early.”

“I’m Emma Swan, we met last month.”

“Oh right, the bounty hunter. How’d that go?”

Emma wasn’t interested in pleasantries. 

“Do you know Ashley Boyd is being coerced into an illegal adoption?”

“What? No! She’s…what?”

“Ashley won’t make a legal complaint so I’m giving you a heads-up. I’m going over to talk to Mr Gold now and maybe I can get him to back down without taking it any further but if not, you need to be ready to investigate officially.”

“Investigate Mr. Gold? Are you serious?”

Emma paused. “Wow. Yes, Sheriff, I’m serious, but I guess I’ll have to do this myself.”

She turned and strode out of the office, leaving Graham spluttering in shock.

 

The bell over the door jangled merrily as Emma stormed into the shop. Mr. Gold appeared from the back room, his curious expression replaced with a smile that Emma really didn’t like.

“Miss Swan, what a pleasure to see you again!”

“Wish I could say the same. I want the contact Ashley Boyd signed.”

Gold’s smile vanished.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said airily, turning to fiddle with the globe on the counter.

“Bull. You’re coercing a nineteen year old girl into giving up her child. She told me everything.”

Gold’s expression turned shrewd.

“Well, if she told you everything, you’ll know that we have an agreement and my agreements are always honoured. She signed of her own free will, after all.”

Emma raised three fingers and ticked off her rebuttals.

“You aren’t an adoption lawyer, the father hasn’t waived parental rights and the contract Ashley signed is in no way legally valid. You’re not getting that kid.”

Gold gave her an appraising look.

“I like you, Miss Swan. You’re not afraid of me. Now that’s either cocky or presumptuous but either way I’d rather have you on my side. If you want Ashley to have that baby are you willing to make a deal with me?”

“No. You give me the contract and you agree to never bother Ashley again or I call every cop and lawyer I know in the state of Maine and bring them all down on your head.”

Gold paused for a moment and smiled again. 

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” He said, affecting a jovial tone as he brought a locked case out from under the counter. “Very well, Miss Swan, I hereby renounce all claims to Miss Boyd’s offspring.” His smile became mocking as he unlocked the case and handed over the contract. Emma flicked through it and on the last page, next to Ashley’s signature, were tearstains. Emma took a breath and stared at him for a moment but her instincts told her he was telling the truth, so she pocketed the slim contract and turned on her heel, striding pointedly out.

“After all,” Gold addressed the empty shop after her, “I have something better now.”

When Emma returned to the loft Sean was there. He and Ashley were sitting on Mary Margaret’s bed, hugging and crying. Ruby waved her over to where she and Mary Margaret were clutching mugs of coffee and wincing at the volume of the couple’s emotional reconciliation.

“You two okay?” Emma asked, torn between concern and amusement. Mary Margaret grimaced in reply while Ruby managed a smile.

“When did he arrive?” She asked.

“Almost an hour ago,” Ruby replied. 

“Good.” Emma pronounced. Ruby’s eyebrows rose as she looked between the couple and Emma’s satisfied expression and she opened her mouth to comment, but thought better of it and simply smiled.

Emma’s phone rang. She checked the caller ID, saw it was her partner and answered.

“Hey Mike, what’s up?”

“Hey Emma, will you be back today? We got a case.”

“Yeah, I’m leaving in a few minutes.”

“Okay, see you later.”

She hung up and reached for the coffee when Sean’s voice stopped her.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, coming over to the counter with Ashley’s hand firmly held in his.

“Yeah, I have to get back to work,” Emma replied.

“Oh,” Sean looked conflicted for a moment, then grabbed her in a strong hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Emma pushed him away gently and addressed both of them hoping they wouldn’t take offense.

“You’re welcome. But listen, you’re both really young to be parents. Just because Gold is a scumbag doesn’t mean you don’t have options, okay? I mean, keep the kid if you want to, but if not, I know some people who can help, okay?”

Luckily, Sean smiled. “Thanks, but this is our little girl.” His hand rubbed Ashley’s stomach reverently. “We made her, and we’re keeping her.”

Emma smiled. She had her reservations, but it was their choice.

“In that case, congratulations. If Gold starts sniffing around again, tell the Sheriff and call me, okay? Now I need to get going.”

“Oh, you have come back once the baby’s born!” Ashley insisted and the other three chimed in with agreement.

“Sweetie, the way you look I could be back by Thursday! I’ll try and get back for next month, will that do?”

“Sure,” Ashley stepped forward and hugged her too, followed by Ruby and finally Mary Margaret. Emma’s proximity alarms were screaming but she allowed the affection, conscious of the fragile emotions caused by the eventful night.

“See you soon, guys.”

“Bye Emma!” They chorused.

As Emma handed her key back to Granny (“see you next time. Don’t leave it so long!”) and headed out of town, she reflected that every time she came to Storybrooke, she seemed to make new friends. For someone who had been solitary for most of her life, it was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. She realised that as much as she was looking forward to getting back to Boston, she was equally excited about meeting the baby she’d saved from that slime ball. 

She smiled as she drove and when she pulled in to her parking space and headed up to her office, Mike called out.

“Hey Jamie, is that Emma?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Mike,” she replied, raising a hand in greeting to their young secretary. He murmured a greeting and handed her a stack of messages and mail. She walked through to their shared office and greeted Mike.

“Hey. What’s the case?”

“The info’s on your desk. Did you have a good weekend?”

Emma thought about it. “I had a great weekend.”


	5. Chapter Four

Emma hadn’t been far off with her prediction: Ashley gave birth a week and a half after Emma returned to Boston. According to Ruby’s email mother and baby were both healthy and Gold hadn’t tried to interfere. Mary Margaret had also emailed and Emma found her heart clenching painfully as she looked at a series of pictures of Ashley and Sean staring lovingly down at their daughter. Mary Margaret had passed on various greetings and extended another invitation to visit. The new baby – Alexandra Emma Boyd, which hadn’t helped Emma’s consternation – was too young to travel and the new parents wanted Emma to meet her namesake. Emma looked at her schedule and promised to come down for the weekend in a month’s time. 

A few hours later her phone rang.

“A month?” Ruby demanded in lieu of a greeting.

“Hi Ruby,” Emma smiled. Despite being several years older than the feisty waitress and Mary Margaret, and more than 15 years older than Ashley, Emma felt a real kinship with them. A tiny voice at the back of her mind warned her against getting attached, but she’d spent years learning when to ignore that voice. 

“A month?” Ruby exclaimed again.

“Ruby, I’m sorry, I can’t take the time off work. Mike and I just started on this business. We’re both working pretty much 24/7 to get it off the ground. A month is the best I can do.”

“Okay,” Ruby relented grudgingly, before her tone turned teasing. “Mike, huh? I heard you mention him last time. Spill!”

“Ruby, no!” Emma laughed, “He’s my business partner, that’s all. Besides, he’s…” she trailed off. Mike was forty seven, but in good enough shape to pass for younger. She’d always thought of him as being older, but it struck her that those twelve years didn’t mean as much as they had when they’d first met, six years previously.

“He’s not my type,” she finished.

“If you say so,” Ruby teased.

Emma changed the subject.

“So what’s happening with Mary Margaret and Doctor Fish?”

“Whale,” Ruby corrected.

“Whatever, what’s happening?”

“Oh, that ended a week ago.”

“Why?” Emma asked, surprised to find that she was interested. Gossip had never been her thing, but she cared about her new friend.

“They were out on a date and he tried to hit on me while she was in the bathroom. I told her and she dumped him on the spot.”

“What a slimeball,” Emma pronounced.

“Yeah,” Ruby agreed. “Although I think John has a crush on her.”

“John?”

“John Doe, you know, Coma Guy?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! She hasn’t noticed, but he always seems to have his ‘checkups’ when she’s scheduled to volunteer.”

Emma laughed. “I’ve been meaning to call; I’ll have to ask her.”

“No!” Ruby urged. “It’s much more fun this way!”

Emma laughed again and agreed. “How are Ashley and Sean doing, anyway? Did his dad come around?”

“No,” Ruby sounded angry. “He threw Sean out.”

“What?! What happened?”

“He’s an asshole, that’s what happened. It’s okay though. They found an empty house on Miller Street that’s practically derelict, so it’s cheap. Granny’s letting them stay at the B&B until Sean can get it in good enough shape for the baby.”

“I should kick that guy’s ass,” Emma muttered.

“Don’t bother; Sean already decked him.”

“Seriously? How much did I miss in two weeks?”

“Yeah, he came to the hospital after Alex was born and starting hinting that she wasn’t Sean’s. Sean gave him a black eye and told him not to bother calling.”

“Wow. Good for him!”

“Yeah. You should have seen the look on Ashley’s face!”

They spent a few more minutes catching up and then said goodbye, but not before Ruby extracted a promise to visit in a month and no later, on pain of Sean’s cooking. Ruby’s tone had indicated that was a dire threat.

The month before her visit passed slowly. Emma loved her work and they were beginning to build some momentum with the business, but it was hard work. Most nights Emma fell into bed around one and woke at five. She and Mike had developed the habit of sparring in the morning, to wake them up and to keep their skills sharp. 

The day before her drive up to Storybrooke, Mike had a close call on an investigation and only Emma’s intervention had saved him from a bullet to the head. They drove back to the office and as she pulled out a bottle and a couple of tumblers, Emma’s hands began to shake.

“Hey,” Mike said softly, “it’s okay. I’m feeling pretty rough too.” He gave her an appraising look and then carefully hugged her.

“Uh, Mike?” Emma managed, “I’m flattered, but you’re really not my type.”

Mike laughed. “Me neither, honey. Why do you think I left the Marines?” He drawled.

Emma’s eyebrows rose, although since her face was hidden in his shoulder it was a pointless gesture.

“Really? I didn’t know.”

Mike leaned back against his desk and gestured for her to pour the drinks.

“Well, it ain’t something I talk about much, but you saved my sorry hide tonight. Guess I’m feeling chatty.”

Emma raised her glass and drained it, suppressing a gasp as the fiery liquor hit her stomach.

“You seeing anyone?”

“Nah.” Mike’s expression turned grim. He stared into his glass as though the amber liquid within had angered him.

“I had a guy; we were stationed together in Baghdad. He died. That was ten years ago. I ain’t looked at another soul since.”

Emma didn’t know what to say to that.

“I’m sorry,” she managed, wishing that Mary Margaret were around. The meek schoolteacher had a talent with people that she sorely lacked.

“I had a guy once too,” she offered. Talking her past was the last thing she wanted to do, but Mike was her friend.

“He die?” Mike asked bitterly. Emma’s laugh matched his tone.

“I wish. I was crazy about him and he got me pregnant, then got me arrested.”

Mike’s head shot up.

“I…I knew about the prison thing, but….you were pregnant? Did you have…?” 

“No,” Emma answered his unspoken question. “I gave him up.”

“Damn,” Mike breathed. “You tell the dad?”

“I never heard from him again.”

Mike whistled softly. “You had the kid in jail?”

“Yeah.” 

They sat drinking in silence for a few moments until Mike started to laugh. When Emma looked at him, he explained.

“Man, do we know how to set a mood, or what?”

Emma couldn’t help it. She laughed too. The hysteria helped to drain the night’s tension and when the laughter finally faded, she and Mike were smiling amiably at each other.

“What was his name?” Emma found herself asking.

“Brian,” Mike replied. “Want to see him?” He reached for his wallet.

They spent the rest of the night talking. While they’d been friends for a while, it was the first time they’d opened up to each other. She reflected that her visits to Storybrooke were doing more to help her reach out to people than years of therapy had managed. She even managed to talk about Neal and the baby she’d given up. Mike hugged her again when she started to sniffle and promised not to tell a soul.

“I think you did right by that kid, Emma,” he told her kindly, “but it seems like you’ve got some issues about it.”

“No, it’s just…that creep who was stalking me a few weeks back dug it up somehow and tried to use it. Brought it all back, you know?”

“Ah. I’m surprised you didn’t break his jaw.”

“I was tempted,” Emma confessed. Mike chuckled.

“Anyway,” Emma declared, wiping her eyes, “it’s late and I have a long drive tomorrow. Can I leave you alone or are you planning on jumping in front of another gun tonight?”

“I’ll be okay. Go get some sleep.”

“Night, Mike”

“Good night, Princess.” He smiled as she shot him a deadly look.

The next morning she jumped in the truck before dawn and pulled in to Storybrooke just the clock on the tower struck eight. Hungry, she went to the diner.

“Morning!” She called to Ruby as she entered. The tall brunette gave a squeal of delight and rushed over to hug her. Emma laughed and extracted herself from her friend’s long limbs.

“Hey Ruby, any chance of some breakfast? I’m starving.”

Ruby sat with her while she ate, listening to the story of the previous night’s adventure. 

“Wow,” Ruby commented, “the most exciting thing that happened here was Sean upgrading the plumbing in the B&B.”

“They’re still there?”

“Yeah, the house should be ready in another few weeks.”

Emma nodded. “Okay, I’ll stop in and say hello. I need a shower anyway. Meet back here for lunch?”

“Definitely.” Ruby hugged her again and Emma was pleased to note that none of her defences protested.

She crossed the street and entered the B&B. There was no sign of Granny Lucas, but a note on the counter advised Emma to take the key to her usual room, “and mind your feet. That boy leaves his things everywhere!” Indeed, there was a roll of canvas lying in the doorway that bulged with the outline of various tools and a length of pipe propped precariously against the counter at her feet. 

Emma went to her room and unpacked. She didn’t bother with the dresser, instead stacking her clean clothes and nightwear on the armchair. As she carried her toiletries into the en-suite bathroom, she heard the front door open. The pipe clanged loudly and she heard a masculine voice utter a curse that was muffled by the high wail of a startled infant. Emma chuckled.

“Hey, Sean!” She called, stepping onto the landing and smiling. 

“Emma!” He greeted in return, shifting Alexandra onto his shoulder and soothing her absently. Emma came down the stairs and picked up the pipe that was rolling slowly toward the open door, placing it against the wall with the tools while kicking the door shut. Alexandra had fallen into a kind of indignant fussing, but as Sean’s broad hand stroked her back she settled down and he shifted her back into a cradle hold to give Emma a one-armed hug. 

“Welcome back,” Sean smiled at her brightly. 

“Thanks for the rescue,” he said, nodding toward the door and the pipe, “Ash is at the doctor and I need about three more arms. You’re a handful, aren’t you little one?”

He looked down at his daughter with absolute love and devotion, and Emma felt the last of her misgivings about their decision to keep the baby melt away.

“I just got in. Is Ashley okay?”

“Oh yeah, it’s just a bug, we just want to make sure she’s still okay to breastfeed.”

They walked toward the kitchen and Emma opened the refrigerator and grabbed two sodas. She popped the tab on one and passed it to Sean, who thanked her.

“I see you’re still working on the plumbing around here?” Emma asked as Alex gurgled happily.

“Yeah. We spent pretty much everything on the house and it’s a wreck, so Granny’s letting us stay. We couldn’t afford rent, so I’m working it off instead. I do four days on the house and two days here.”

“That’s a good deal,” Emma observed, privately suspecting that Granny would have let them stay regardless, but was allowing the young couple their dignity.

“How’s the house coming? I’d love to see it.”

“It’s starting to come together. I had to strip it back to the studs in places, but the frame is solid. The kitchen’s almost finished and the living area is about half done, but the upstairs is a mess and I haven’t even looked at the basement yet, so God knows what’s down there.”

“Sounds like hard work.”

“It is,” Sean smiled, “but it’s fun too, and worth it.” He looked down at his daughter again, and Emma’s gaze followed his. She was surprised to find the baby staring intently at her. Sean chuckled.

“It’s your hair,” he told her, “she’s fascinated by blondes.” He hesitated, looking at her appraisingly.

“Would you like to hold her?” 

Emma’s gaze snapped up to meet his and he wore an expression of such compassion that she knew Ashley had told him about her own experiences. She opened her mouth to refuse, but to her horror heard herself say “Sure.”

Sean stood and handed the baby over, placing her gently in Emma’s arms. Alex fussed a little but settled quickly, sucking vigorously on one tiny fist and gazing up at her with ridiculously large, trusting eyes. Emma took careful stock of herself and was pleased to find her emotions in check. There was the pang of emotion she was expecting, but it was overwhelmed by the amazement and happiness she felt as the baby smiled sloppily and reached out with a wet hand to grasp a lock of Emma’s hair tightly.

“She’s beautiful, Sean,” Emma said, her voice steady.

“That she is,” he agreed proudly. “Takes after her mom.”

They chatted for a while longer as Alexandra fell asleep in Emma’s arms. Emma offered a few hours of her time the following day to help with the house, which Sean happily accepted and, as lunchtime rolled around, Sean dug the stroller out from under a tarp and fastened Alex in carefully. Together they went over to the diner where they were greeted by a delighted Ruby.

“There’s my girl!” Ruby immediately shucked her apron and lifted Alex into her arms, cooing nonsense at the infant happily. Emma smiled. 

“Hey waitress, how about some service?” She mocked, laughing as Ruby stuck her tongue out.

The bell over the door jingled and Ruby looked up, scowling briefly as she saw who it was. 

Mr Gold limped over and peered at Alexandra, seemingly oblivious of how Ruby tightened her grip protectively or Sean stepped up beside her, glaring.

“The little one seems to be doing well,” Gold addressed Emma, “It seems you were right, Miss Swan.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Emma responded flatly.

“Are you staying long? We do so enjoy your visits.”

“Just for the weekend,” she responded, turning away rudely. Gold seemed unfazed.

“Well, no doubt we’ll see you again soon.” He limped away to the counter. Ruby passed Alex back to her father and grimaced.

“He never gets any less creepy, does he?” Emma asked. “Has he been bothering you?”

“No, thank God.” Sean responded. “He even offered to help with money for the house, but we told him to cram it.”

Emma smiled and turned to Ruby. “Speaking of which, I’ve offered to help out for a few hours tomorrow. Want to join us? Maybe we can make dry-walling fun, who knows?”

“Sure, I’ll ask for the afternoon off,” Ruby replied, missing the grateful look Sean shot her. “Mary Margaret and John should be here soon, we’ll ask them too.”

“John, as in Doe?” Emma asked.

“Yeah, they’ve started having a ‘friendly’ coffee about once a week.” Ruby said, using actual finger-quotes. “He’s completely smitten and she’s totally oblivious. It’s adorable.”

As if on cue, the bell jingled again and the tall blond man Emma had last seen lying in a coma held the door open for Mary Margret to enter. Catching sight of Emma, the schoolteacher smiled widely and dragged her companion over.

“Emma!” She let go of his arm and pulled Emma into an enthusiastic hug. Emma laughed and reciprocated. Happiness spread through her in lieu of her usual need for personal space. Mary Margaret finally stepped back and made introductions.

“John, this is my friend Emma. She’s the bounty hunter I was telling you about.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, smiling and reaching across to shake her hand. Emma smiled back.

“Likewise,” she told him. He was very handsome and his smile stayed in his eyes. Emma approved.

“Should I call you John?” She asked, not entirely sure of the protocol for amnesia.

He laughed softy, apparently at ease with his condition. “It’s what I answer to these days. Shall we sit?”

The four of them slid into the booth while Ruby went to fetch a pitcher of lemonade. Mary Margaret reached for Alex and kissed her gently as her companion addressed Sean.

“She must have grown two inches just this week,” he said, sharing a smile with the other man. Mary Margaret cradled the infant gently and John peered over her shoulder as they both smiled down at her and Emma suddenly found her heart lurching in her chest at the picture they made.

Lunch was a boisterous affair. Emma found herself liking their amnesiac companion very much; he was polite without being patronising, funny and, while clearly smitten with Mary Margaret, didn’t smother her with attention or ignore the others. When Ashley joined them after her appointment an impromptu cheer rang out and Sean smoothly slid out of the booth, handing their daughter over and finding a chair as Ashley slid gratefully into his seat. Ruby obtained permission from her grandmother to take the afternoon off the following day and the group made plans to meet at the house for 11. Sean and Ashley left soon after as Ashley’s mild infection left her tired easily and Ruby was chased back to work, leaving Emma alone with Mary Margaret and John Doe. They chatted easily for a while longer before Emma recognised their mutual desire to be alone and made an excuse she suspected was less than subtle.

The next morning Emma allowed herself a late start. She heard Sean leave around eight, no doubt to start the day’s work on the house, but Emma was feeling the strain of the last few weeks’ hard work and gladly embraced another couple of hours sleep.

She walked up to the house at ten past eleven, answering the mocking comments about her timekeeping by displaying the pastries she’d detoured for. The group divided up their jobs for the morning; Sean would continue the plumbing work in the bathroom, Ruby would apply the primer to the living room walls and Mary Margaret and John would start in the kitchen. Emma, in punishment for her lateness, was assigned the task of braving the basement and clearing out any junk left by the previous owner. Emma accepted this with good grace and traipsed down the creaking stairs, immediately noting that they would need attention if the couple wanted to use them regularly. 

The basement was divided into two sections by two pillars of supporting wall with all manner of junk piled between them, but there was potential in the half she could see. There were electrical outlets that probably needed replacing and the pipes overhead seemed to suggest there was at least a sink behind the piles of junk, if not capacity for a washer or dryer. The available half of the basement had not been decorated but the bare brick had been insulated and boarded, as though the last owner had been in the process of creating a usable space. Emma decided to clear out the junk, see if anything was worth salvaging and then inspect the rest of the space. She returned upstairs for some gloves, a mask and some trash bags, warning John that he might be required for the bulkier objects, then returned downstairs and set to work.

There was a lot of junk. It took Emma two hours to clear enough space to reach the other half of the room, which was lit only by the meagre sunlight admitted by a window so grimy it looked like the dirt had been rubbed on it deliberately. Emma took stock and paused.

The room looked like a nest for three-foot rats. In the corner a hole in the wall was covered by an old curtain weighed down with stones and behind it Emma found a gap in the siding large enough for a small body to slip through. More junk had been piled up on the other side as a partition against the draught and there was an old, ratty, stained mattress with two distinct dips in it. Neatly stacked against the wall were several cans of food, a few chocolate bars and a cheap vase containing slightly brackish water. Emma turned and saw how the junk between the supporting walls had been deliberately constructed into a wall, separating this den from the main house. Finally, Emma saw, there was an old, dog-eared comic book peeking out from under the musty, moth-eaten blanket. Emma called the others down.

“Oh my God!” Mary Margaret said.

“Kids were living here,” Emma said, gesturing to the comic and the child-sized dips in the mattress. “Do you know of any homeless kids in the area?”

“No.”

“Well you’ve got some, and they’re in trouble.”

“How do you know?” Ruby asked.

“They’re hoarding food here. They sleep here. This was their home. When you started working on the place they had to abandon it and start over. That’s not easy.”

The implication of first-hand knowledge hung heavy in the air. Emma ignored the shocked looks of her friends.

“It’s cold out this time of year. They’ll need to be inside. Are there any other empty buildings in town?”

“Just the library,” Ruby told her.

“You guys keep working,” Emma said. “I’m going to find those kids.”

“We’ll come,” Mary Margaret said, but Emma cut her off.

“No. More than one person will feel like a trap.” Emma cut off their protests by scooping up the chocolate and the comic and striding out.

She walked to the library quickly and circled the building, looking for the kids’ entrance. It was the same door she’d forced to get to August all those weeks ago and she entered silently. She found the kids huddled together over a tin of cold soup.

“Hey,” she called softly and the kids jumped and tried to run, but Emma was between them and the only exit.

“Who are you?” The girl demanded, shoving her brother behind her.

“I’m Emma. I’m friends with the people who bought your house. We found your stuff and I wanted to return it.” She held out the comic and the candy. The boy peeked around his sister and his eyes widened.

“We’re not going with you.” The girl insisted, never taking her eyes off Emma.

“Didn’t ask you to,” Emma agreed easily. “You look like you guys are doing a pretty good job.”

“We are,” the girl said, her mulish tone making it a challenge rather than agreement. 

“Okay, then. I’ll leave your stuff here.” Emma laid the comic and chocolate on the dusty shelf behind her and turned as if to leave.

“You aren’t going to call Social Services?” The girl asked, suspicion pouring from her.

“No,” Emma said, turning back. “You want to stay with your brother, right? If they put you in the system, you’ll probably get split up.”

“Yeah,” the girl agreed as her brother edged out from behind her, intent on the things Emma had laid aside. Seeing his gaze, Emma held them out again.

“Nicky, don’t!” The girl snapped as her brother made to take them.

Emma shrugged unconcernedly and slid them along the floor to rest at the boy’s feet. He snatched them up and retreated back behind his sister. 

“Listen, it’s getting cold at night. Do you guys want me to bring your blankets over?”

The girl stared at her appraisingly. Emma allowed the scrutiny, knowing she needed to earn this girl’s trust if she had any chance of helping them.

“You could get us some food,” she said.

Emma smiled sardonically. “I’m not a sucker, kid. You can get your own food. I’m just offering your stuff back.”

The girl’s gaze sharpened as she re-assessed her opinion of Emma.

“Yeah, we want our stuff back.” She said warily.

“Okay, I’ll go get it. You guys have a watch?”

The girl nodded. Emma didn’t ask if they’d come by it honestly.

“I’ll be back in an hour.”

Emma left and didn’t look back. There was a risk they would bolt, but she thought the promise of getting their supplies back combining with their curiosity would work in her favour. She returned to the house.

“Emma! Did you find them?”

“Yeah,” she replied. In her absence her friends had gathered the kids’ belongings into a sturdy cardboard box. The mattress was propped against a wall.

“We should call Sheriff Graham,” Mary Margaret said.

“No,” Emma told her. “If these kids trusted the people in this town they’d have reached out. I need to build their trust, okay? I said I’d bring their stuff. If I show up with a cop they’ll bolt.”

Ashley could no longer restrain herself. “How do you know this stuff?”

Emma sighed. “I grew up in the system. Sometimes being out on your own was better.” She grabbed the box and left before they had time to respond.

It had taken less time than she anticipated collecting the kids’ belongings and she was determined to arrive exactly when she promised, so she picked up some more pastries and some hot chocolate and returned to the library with two minutes to spare. She knocked loudly before entering and found the girl in the same place. The boy, Nicky, was nowhere to be seen and there was a badly concealed length of metal pipe within her reach.

“Here you go,” Emma said, placing the box on the ground.

“I brought lunch,” she informed the girl, who was nearly bristling with suspicion. Emma slid to the ground and opened the bag of pastries.

“I thought we could find our own food.” The girl accused.

Emma shrugged. “I was hungry. Figured you could keep me company.” She deliberately didn’t ask about Nicky.

“What’s your name?” the girl demanded. Emma narrowed her eyes as though deciding whether to trust the girl.

“Emma,” she answered at last. “What’s yours?”

“Becky,” the girl replied and Emma laughed. “You can pick any fake name in the world and you pick Becky? Kid, you need to work on your imagination. Here,” she offered the bag of pastries, “have a doughnut and we’ll come up with something better.”

After a long moment the girls hackles seemed to settle and she walked cautiously over to accept the doughnut.

“Nicky, come out here,” she called. “I’m Ava,” she told Emma as her brother appeared in the stacks.

Emma laughed again. “A name that embarrassing has to be real,” she said. Ava flushed but smiled.

The kids sat a little way away from her eating in silence. Emma finished her pastry but made no attempt to move.

“How’d you guys get here?” She asked, seemingly idly. Ava’s suspicious gaze returned.

“Why do you care?” She demanded.

“Just passing the time,” Emma told her. “I ran from my foster parents when I was twelve, spent three months living in a storage warehouse until they caught me.” She looked around, seemingly appraising their surroundings. “This is better. The basement was pretty good, too.”

“Why’d you run away?” Ava asked. Emma knew a test when she saw one.

“I didn’t like the lady’s perfume,” she said seriously. Ava cracked a smile for the first time.

The boy spoke for the first time.

“Our dad doesn’t want us.” Ava shushed him immediately, but the hurt in her eyes told Emma he was telling the truth.

“Your dad’s here in town?”

Ava glared at her brother and turned to Emma, looking at her appraisingly for a long time before answering.

“We don’t know. We don’t know who he is.”

“Your mom’s gone?” Emma asked. Ava nodded tightly.

“Okay. Have you tried to find your dad?” Nicky nodded this time and spoke up.

“If we found our dad they couldn’t make us go away or split us up,” he told her earnestly.

“That’s smart,” Emma told him kindly.

Ava scowled at her brother. “He doesn’t want us, Nicky.”

“How do you know?” Emma inquired mildly.

“Why would we be here if he did?”

Emma nodded. “But you guys don’t know him. What if he doesn’t know about you? What if he’s looking for you just as hard?”

Ava looked thunderstruck. Emma guessed she’d probably never even considered the idea before.

“I could help,” she offered.

“How?” Ava asked, the suspicion returning.

“I’m a bounty hunter. Finding people is my job.”

“We don’t need any help,” Ava insisted.

“I know,” Emma assured her. “You’re doing great, kid. It just might be easier with another pair of eyes.” Ava didn’t look convinced so Emma sweetened the pot.

“You could come back to the house while I look,” she offered. “Even sleep in a bedroom and not the basement.”

“It’s your friends’ house now.”

Emma smiled conspiratorially. “My friends are suckers. You can get a week’s food and board out them, easy.”

Nicky tugged at his sister’s shirt. “Let’s do it, Ava. Maybe we’ll find our dad!”

Ava wasn’t convinced.

“No cops? No Social Services?”

“Just a bed, some food,” seeing Ava wavering, she went in for the kill, “and a hot shower.”

Ava looked at her for a long time before answering.

“Okay.”

They walked to the house in silence. Emma noted they began to swerve off the sidewalk instinctively, heading for their makeshift entrance, before checking themselves and coming to the front door with her nervously. Emma’s friends stood outside, watching anxiously.

“Sean, Ashley, I’d like you to meet your previous tenants, Nicky and Ava.” 

Nicky hid behind his sister. Ava’s bravado was gone as she stared at the group of adults waiting for them.

“I promised them room and board while I find their dad,” Emma said, giving the group a significant look, “so how about we go inside and get them some lunch.”

The adults filed inside obediently. Ava looked up at Emma, her expression suddenly much younger. 

“We already had lunch,” she reminded Emma.

“They don’t know that,” Emma said conspiratorially and winked. “I told you, suckers!”

An hour later the kids were fed to bursting and then provided with fresh towels and directed to the newly-installed shower. Mary Margaret had almost protested when the kids had gone in together but a violent shake of Emma’s head warned her off. Once the bathroom door closed, Emma explained.

“They made themselves vulnerable coming here. They won’t split up for any reason now and if you try and make them, they’ll bolt.”

“Emma, they can’t stay here,” Sean said.

“I know Sean, relax. Once they’re cleaned up I’ll take them along to city hall and check the records. If there’s nothing there I’ll call Social Services.” She changed the subject. “How’s the decorating going?”

The adults chatted uneasily until the sound of running water stopped and the kids emerged, freshly scrubbed.

“Okay guys, let’s go,” Emma said.

“Where?” Ava asked, her confidence restored.

“City Hall.”

Again they walked in silence. Emma didn’t crowd them or call them back when they wandered away, knowing their boundaries were touchy. She remembered Ruby telling her there was no clerk and fervently hoped the Mayor was out to lunch. Luckily, the office was empty and they reached the records without incident.

“What’s your surname?” Emma asked.

“Zimmerman,” Ava responded, sounding a little overwhelmed.

“Is that what’s on your birth certificate or is that a foster name?”

“I...I don’t know.” 

“That’s okay,” Emma assured her. “We can start there, at least.”

They weren’t listed under Zimmerman, so Emma worked backwards until she hit pay dirt.

“Does the name Michael Tillman mean anything to you?” She asked Ava. Nicky was asleep on a chair nearby.

“No, why?”

“Because according to this,” she said, waving the file a little, “he’s your dad.”

Ava’s face went white. “You found him?”

“I think so. Listen; let’s go back to the house. I’ll meet this guy and make sure he’s the right guy and if he is, I’ll call Ashley and she’ll bring you over. Okay?”

“O...okay,” Ava agreed. She was beginning to shake. Emma crouched next to her, careful not to touch.

“We can wait, if you want.” She murmured. “Until tomorrow, maybe?”

“Yeah,” Ava agreed shakily. “We should wait.”

“Okay, let’s go.” With a glance around her, Emma stuffed the file into her jacket and walked over to wake Nicky, pointedly turning her back to allow Ava to gather herself. The three of them returned to the house and Emma spoke to her friends quietly as the kids wolfed down their dinner.

“I found the dad. Ava freaked out so I didn’t want to push her, but I’ll go see him tonight and hopefully he can be here when they wake up.”

She noticed the looks she was getting.

“What?” She asked snippily.

Mary Margaret shook her head. “You’re amazing, you know that?” She said as Ruby and John nodded agreement.

“Hey, they’re just kids. Anyone would do it,” Emma deflected.

Her friends chose not to argue the point. Emma returned to the kids and walked them to the bedroom. The old mattress had gone and been replaced by a large airbed. Nicky crawled under the cover while Ava looked around, a ritual Emma suspected was so ingrained they didn’t realise they did it. Ava slid in after her brother and pulled the cover up around him.

“Emma?” She said as the blonde turned to leave.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” Emma was astonished to feel tears prickle at the back of her eyes. She forced her voice to stay steady, not wanting to scare her exhausted charges.

“You’re welcome. Go to sleep.”

She left the door ajar and went downstairs.

“Hell of a day, huh?” she asked the room rhetorically. Mary Margaret and John sat together on the couch and Emma smiled as Mary Margaret took his hand unconsciously. Ruby stood holding baby Alex as Ashley sat on an easy chair. Emma could see Sean in the kitchen pouring some coffee.

“I need to go find this Tillman guy,” she said, and Ashley spoke up.

“Michael Tillman?” She asked.

“Yeah, you know him?”

“He’s a mechanic, he lives on Beaumont Street.”

“Thanks. Wish me luck.”

The clock tower was striking nine as she rapped on Tillman’s door. He answered gruffly.

“Yeah?”

“Michael Tillman?” Emma asked.

“Yeah, what?”

“I’m Emma Swan. I found your kids.”

He stared for a moment. “I don’t have any kids,” he told her and tried to close the door. Emma grabbed his wrist, jumping as a static spark snapped between them.

“Hey, they’ve been living rough right here, looking for you. You need to deal with your shit and step up.”

Tillman stared at her hand on his wrist. Her fingers tingled from the static shock. He spoke slowly, as though waking from a deep sleep.

“Ava...and Nicky?”

“That’s right.”

“You found them?” His eyes seemed to be clearing. Emma let go and stepped back.

“They were sleeping rough in the basement of the house Sean and Ashley bought.”

“Where are they? Take me to them!”

By the time they reached the house Tillman was nearly frantic. Emma left him downstairs and woke the kids alone. Half asleep, they shuffled downstairs to face their father. 

The air crackled with static. Tillman and his kids stared at each other for a moment before rushing into each others’ arms, weeping happily. The others had already left but Ashley and Sean joined Emma at in the hallway, leaving the family to their reunion.

“Incredible,” Ashley murmured, shooting Emma a glance. Emma rolled her eyes.

“I gave them lunch and looked up some records. That’s it. It got me out of decorating,” she teased, “so I’m happy.”

Before the couple could respond, their guests came out to meet them.

“Thank you so much,” Tillman gushed, tears still wet on his face. He seemed more vital, more vigorous than he had. The kids clung to his waist. The static in the air seemed to peak, and then recede. Emma attributed it to the work Sean had been doing on the electrics.

The family left, still thanking Emma, who brushed aside the praise. She said her goodbyes to her friends and walked back to the B&B, taking the scenic route to enjoy the balmy evening. Back in her room, she washed up in the en-suite. Catching her own eye in the mirror, she cracked a smile.

“You did good today,” she told her reflection, and turned in.

The next morning she paid a visit to the sheriff.

“Did you know you had two kids living rough?” She asked pointedly. 

“What?” Graham asked, taken aback. “Where? Who?”

“Relax; they’re back with their dad. First an illegal adoption and then homeless children, right under your nose, Sheriff. I gotta say, I’m not too impressed with your performance so far.”

Satisfied she’d given him enough to think about, Emma strode out, heading for the house to put in the hours she’d promised.

Three hours of dry-walling later, Emma volunteered to buy lunch. As she was leaving Granny’s she was stopped.

“Who are you?” The stranger demanded.

“Excuse me?” Emma said.

“We don’t get new people in Storybrooke. What’s your name?” He demanded.

“What’s yours?” She retorted.

He looked taken aback. “Jefferson,” he replied.

“Well Jefferson, you’re in my way.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Move.”

He moved out of her way and Emma left, aware that he was watching her go.

Jefferson stared at the door for a long while before turning and walking to the back of the restaurant. He slid gracefully into the booth and stared hard at the man opposite.

“Where did she come from?” Jefferson demanded.

Mr Gold smiled at him.

 

Emma returned to the B&B and packed her bag. Both Granny and Ruby were at the diner and she knew she’d be waylaid into staying another night if she paid her bill in person, so she slipped the cash into an envelope and tucked it under the mail on the reception desk. Behind her, the door opened and Ashley entered, carrying Alex.

“Hey Ash,” Emma greeted, “I was just on my way over to the house.”

“Why,” Ashley teased, “do you have more strays for us to take in?”

Emma gave a short laugh.

“No, I want to give you a gift. I missed the baby shower, so...” Emma held out another envelope.

“Emma, you didn’t have to do that,” Ashley chided.

“I know.”

Ashley smiled, touched. “Do you want to wait for Sean, or...?”

“No, I have to get going. Here, I’ll take Alex.”

She hoped her voice hadn’t betrayed her eagerness to hold the tiny girl, but the look on Ashley’s face as she handed her daughter over told her otherwise.

Emma’s gaze stayed on the infant as Ashley tore the envelope open, but she looked up and the sound of the other woman’s gasp.

“Emma, I can’t believe...how much is this?”

“Two thousand dollars. The certificates are for hardware stores as well as baby stores, so you can use it for the house as well.”

“Oh, Emma, we can’t accept this!”

Emma’s face fell. “Oh, well... I understand. I thought gift certificates would be less impersonal than money, but...”

“Emma, it’s wonderful, it’s just... it’s too much!”

Emma gave a relieved smile. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ve never really had anyone to give gifts to before, so...” she shrugged abashedly. 

“But the business – I mean, you’re just starting out, don’t you need the money?”

“Not really. I didn’t sink all my money into it, just all my time.” Emma joked. “Besides, we’re starting to pick up steam. We may even need to hire more staff soon.”

“This is just...” Ashley stared at the assortment of gift certificates in awe. “Thank you, Emma. We’ll never forget this.”

Emma flushed and reluctantly handed Alex back.

“Well, invite me to the housewarming when the house is finished and we’ll be even.”

Ashley smiled. “You got it.”

 

Sean finished dragging the rancid mattress out on to the back porch and shoved it down the steps. A figure walked past the half-finished fence around the garden and raised a hand in greeting.

“Hey Marco,” Sean called, “how’s it going?”

“Very well, thank you.” The older man responded. “I see the house is coming along nicely.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Sean said proudly. “And thanks for your help. I might have some more work for you soon; there are a couple of jobs too big for just me.”

“I’d be glad to help. Where are your beautiful ladies this evening?”

“Back at the B&B. We had an adventure yesterday and they were tired out.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, come have a beer and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Sean; I was just on my way for a walk. May I call on you when I return?”

“Of course. Where are you walking?”

“I thought perhaps the south woods. It’s too nice an afternoon to spend indoors.”

Sean smiled. “You’re right there. When you get back we’ll grab a cooler and sit out here.”

“I look forward to it,” Marco assured him.

He walked down the slope and raised his hand in farewell to Sean before turning a corner and strolling towards a rough track that would take him to the forest. The sun was beginning it’s long slide toward the horizon and there was a hint of a breeze in the air. Fifteen minutes walk brought Marco to the edge of the wood. He paused for a moment, then picked a direction at random and set off. He walked quietly and slowly, enjoying the birdsong and the play of light through the treetops, feeling at peace with the world. 

There was a sharp crack behind him and a muffled roaring sound seemed to echo around the forest. He turned and went to investigate, and stumbled into a small clearing. The ground was scorched and a faint, purplish mist was evaporating into the treetops. Kneeling on the blackened ground was a young man, panting and gasping as though in pain.

“Are you okay?” Marco asked. The youth’s head shot up and as their eyes met, his pained expression was replaced by thin-lipped calm. He stood smoothly, only the sweat beading visibly on his skin any indication that he was still in pain. The young man strode toward him and Marco put out a hand to offer assistance. 

His breath left him in a gasp. He looked down to see the hilt of a knife nestled against his chest. He looked up at the other man, seeing no malice on his face, only a calm determination.

“Why...?” He wheezed as the youth withdrew the blade from between his ribs. As he sank to his knees, his assailant pulled a handkerchief from a pocket of his leather tunic and began to clean the blade. Marco continued to gasp for breath, clutching at the crimson stain spreading over his shirt and the boy paused.

He knelt down.

“I’m sorry,” he told Marco sincerely, “the journey appears to have affected my aim. Here.”

He cradled Marco in his arms and this time the blade found its mark.


	6. Chapter Five

There was no way through. The more Henry learned about his mother’s curse, the more that fact became apparent. Only the caster could create doorways and even those were ridiculously unstable. Even if his mother agreed to help, there was no guarantee he’d end up in the right place or even the right time. He needed answers, but his duty was to his kingdom and he couldn’t justify the risk. Reluctantly, Henry put aside his desire to reach Storybrooke and threw himself into the business of being Crown Prince.

Time passed. Henry was granted his own force of 50 men as part of his command training and they spent weeks in the border forests learning to work as a unit. He hadn’t returned to the palace in almost two months, instead learning to live off the land for extended periods. The rough plateau he had chosen now held a makeshift fort and rudimentary defences.

Henry was on lumberjack duty nearby, cutting planks from a tree he had felled earlier to build a stable. A bird call rang through the trees and Henry’s hand went to his sword hilt, recognising the sentry signal. He relaxed when a trumpet sounded his mother’s fanfare further off and spent a moment straightening himself up before returning to the garrison.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing deeply as Regina dismounted. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Regina allowed a tiny, indulgent smile to overtake her stern features.

“An inspection, Commander,” she answered, using the same title for him that his soldiers did. He bowed again.

“Of course. Our garrison is not quite established, but I’m confident you will approve of our work so far. If you please, we will leave the horses to graze, as we have no stable as yet.”

Regina inclined her head in agreement and Henry snapped to attention and offered her a courteous arm. His mother laid a warm hand in the crook of his elbow and together they walked into the small fort, leaving Regina’s retinue to organise themselves.

Henry took his mother to the guest quarters, pleased to see his men standing at attention as they passed, proud smiles on their faces. Once they were alone, he hugged her tightly.

“It’s good to see you, little one,” Regina told him. Henry scowled, but he’d given up pointing out that he was taller than her months ago. The nickname was staying.

“You too, Mom,” he smiled at her.

“How are things going?” He would give a formal report that night in front of the entire unit, including commendations for three soldiers that had distinguished themselves. This was his Mom asking, not the Queen.

“Really well. We were wet for the first couple of weeks until we got the roof on the barracks, but since then it’s really come together. After we leave I’d recommend a permanent structure, maybe a fortified town. It fills the gap from the border expansion, it’s a very defendable spot and has excellent access to arable land and the river.”

Regina nodded. “I’ll make a note. Are you enjoying it?”

Henry grinned. “I love it, Mom. Nobody bows to me or tries to lick my boots. These men respect me. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you for another fortnight, but they’ll do me proud, I’m sure of it.”

They talked frankly about his command for another half an hour before his mother reached the reason for her early visit.

“Henry, I know you’ve been curious about your magical abilities. I spoke with the head librarian recently and she informed me you’ve been doing some serious research.” Henry schooled his face to blankness, realising too late that doing so was a giveaway in itself.

“With all this work you’ve been doing, particularly about the Dark One, I was worried you’d use this time away to…experiment.”

“No, Mom,” Henry reassured her. “I just want to know where this power comes from, if I can trust it.” He raised a hand and concentrated, and a tongue of lavender fire ignited in his cupped palm.

“I can destroy or create, wound or heal, but I don’t know why!” The fire convulsed and became a shimmering globe of water. “How can I trust it if I don’t understand it? If Rumpelstiltskin- ”

Regina put her hand in his, dispelling the water.

“Little one, it comes from you. It’s in your blood. The Dark One didn’t give it to you and he couldn’t take it away. It’s yours.”

“Is it hereditary?” Henry asked, trying to keep his tone merely curious. “You have magic and so did your mother, so if I have it does that mean my birth mother had it?”

“Not necessarily,” Regina said slowly, thinking of Snow White. Neither she nor her dimwit husband could harness magic.

“Do you know who she is?” Henry asked.

Regina paused.

“No. Not for certain.” Henry opened his mouth and she raised a hand to forestall his questions.

“I have a suspicion, that’s all. I can never know for certain, since there’s some evidence that travel to other worlds was not limited to my curse. Even if I’m right, it doesn’t matter. That world is closed off from ours permanently. Please Henry, let go of these fears. The magic is yours and no matter who birthed you, you are my son and you could never let me down.”

Henry thought for a moment. “Okay Mom,” he said, and together they returned to the inspection.

Later, as he lay in his bunk listening to the symphony of snores around him, he planned. His mother had more than a suspicion of his origins, he was sure of it. He had given up on the idea of reaching the other world and had instead tried to deduce his biological parentage through historical records, but the flame of hope had ignited in him once more.

“Closed off from ours permanently,” his mother had said, and she’d lied to him. He'd seen it in her eyes. There was a way. He lay awake for hours as the idea took hold of his mind. He needed to know. He trusted his mother that his magic was safe, but even without that pretext, he was determined to go to the other world. Shortly before dawn he crept into his mother’s chamber and cast a spell of deep sleep on her.

The magic is in the blood.

He drew a short dagger and carefully sliced Regina’s arm open. She didn’t stir as blood pooled in the glass vial he held to the wound, or when his magic smoothed over her, sealing the flesh back together. He pressed an apologetic hand to the newly healed skin and left quietly. Regina wouldn’t awaken for a day or two, which would keep his men busy and prevent her from following him too soon. He felt uncomfortable with his actions, but the fierce need within him to find answers drove him away from the garrison and deep into the woods.

He found the small clearing they used for archery practice and took a scrap of parchment from his belt-pouch. Dipping his finger into the grisly inkwell he had made, Henry daubed the word Storybrooke onto the paper in his mother’s blood. He set it down and knelt, staring at the word, willing it to open the way for him. His magic rose within him until he was bursting with it. His head throbbed, his eyes burned, his hands ached where they were clenched into fists. From the direction of the garrison he heard the alarm being raised; presumably they had found him missing, tried to alert the Queen and discovered her unwakeable. Knowing he had little time, Henry redoubled his efforts. His magic probed at the fabric of the world, searching for a way in through the bloody instruction before him. Finally, just as he thought his head might burst, the air seemed to tear open and swallow him up.

It hurt.

It hurt.

It hurt.

He thought he might be screaming, but he kept his eyes fixed on the word Storybrooke, no longer on the parchment but burned into the world itself. His answers were there. He had to go. He felt as though he were falling and at the same time being crushed and squeezed through an opening too small. He felt himself break and snap and crumple, apparently without moving, as the pain became too much and he clenched his eyes shut. His blood burned in his veins, his bones seemed to stretch awfully as though trying to escape his skin. There was no air in his lungs, so how could he be screaming?

It hurt.

Finally, the air stopped shrieking around him and Henry fell forward, bracing himself against the ground. He took several shaky breaths without opening his eyes, hoping that his men brought a physician with them. He’d failed.

“Are you okay?” Said a voice he didn’t know.

His training took over. The pain was immediately shoved aside as he stood and assessed the man in front of him. He wore strange clothing and a metal bracelet on his left wrist. A criminal? He checked his peripheral vision and concluded that he was nowhere near where he’d been. Could the spell have succeeded? If so, could his arrival have damaged the curse and restored everyone’s memories? He couldn’t allow his presence to become known and he certainly couldn’t afford to give the Dark One advanced warning of his arrival.

He couldn’t leave witnesses.

 

He was in no shape to bury a body. He dragged it deeper into the woods and left it well camouflaged, but easily found by scavengers and carrion-feeders. When he was finished he stood to attention and saluted the hidden corpse with parade-ground perfection, then turned and marched away. He got almost half a mile before he collapsed.

 

Mary Margaret Blanchard was torn. She and John had agreed to watch Alex while Ruby took Ashley and Sean for a night out. After a long and reluctant goodbye from the new parents, Alex had fallen sound asleep and Mary Margaret had realised that she had essentially agreed to spend the evening alone with John, in private. She had watched as he rocked the baby and hummed a gentle lullabye. She had helped him settle Alex in her crib and had stood with him as she dropped off, her sense of warm affection for the infant slowly being replaced with an acute and almost painful awareness of the man next to her. They had retired to the newly-finished kitchen and prepared the meal that the grateful couple had left them. Mary Margaret had felt herself becoming shy for the first time around John, blushing whenever he looked at her. He only smiled and carried on, for which she was grateful.

They ate slowly, at first chatting about nothing in particular but as the meal went on the conversation became at once more sparse and more personal. Mary Margaret had opened up to John and he’d done his best to reciprocate with what he knew. Which brought her back to her problem.

She liked John. She trusted John. She _wanted_ John. She didn’t even know his name.

They finished eating and settled on the couch together. John put his arm around her and she snuggled into his embrace without thinking. It felt right. She looked up at him and he smiled. She smiled back. He kept _looking_ at her in that way he had; not like Whale who had stared like a dog at a steak; John looked her in the eye like he was trying to see into her.

“You’re beautiful,” he told her seriously. She shivered. He wasn’t smiling any more. He wasn’t anything like Whale, but he was watching her hungrily nonetheless. She put a hand on his chest without noticing how it was shaking.

“John,” she whispered.

“Mary Margaret,” he answered. “We have been seeing each other for a while now. I very much enjoy your company and I would very much like to kiss you.”

She should have blushed. She wanted to blush, if only to have an excuse to look away from the desire she saw burning in his eyes. Meek schoolteachers were supposed to blush and look away when confronted with handsome, large men declaring their lust. Instead she felt her pulse pick up as her blood headed in a direction that was decidedly not her face.

“May I kiss you, Mary Margaret?” The blunt, formal request should have been ridiculous, should have broken the spell she was under. She could have teased him about his complete lack of finesse and the tension would have receded. Instead she ached to feel his hands on her overheated skin.

_You don’t even know his name!_

Normally she listened to her inner schoolteacher voice. Just this once, she was prepared to ignore it, until another, much nastier thought occurred.

_What else has he forgotten? A wife? A child?_

Her face fell. “I’m sorry, John. I can’t, not yet.”

She expected disappointment, maybe even outrage. Instead, he nodded and laced his fingers through hers. His body language changed, becoming affectionate once more, and the burning heat in his gaze faded, but didn’t vanish.

“Alright. May I ask why?”

“I want to,” she assured him, “I just want to be sure. What if you’re married?”

John Doe nodded.

“Honestly, I’ve thought the same thing,” he told her, “and I had intended to talk to you about it before…” he trailed off but swept his gaze meaningfully over their tangled limbs. “I just can’t seem to resist you for long enough to have the conversation,” he said, half joking.

That did make her blush.

They sat silently for a while, letting the last of the tension drain from the room. Some time passed in companionable silence.

“What about Emma?” John suggested suddenly.

“What about her?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Her job is finding people! Why don’t we ask her to find me?”

“But we know where you are,” Mary Margaret said, not quite following.

“Yes, but not _who_ I am. She found the Tillman kids’ dad in an afternoon! It’s got to be worth a try, right?”

Mary Margaret grinned.

“That’s brilliant! I’ll call her tomorrow and ask.”

They smiled happily at each other. From the other room Alex began to fuss and John went to soothe her. When he returned Mary Margaret had set up the movie they had originally planned to watch. Before pressing play she turned to her date, determined to be honest.

“I do want you, John.” She told him. “I want you so much it scares me. I’m waiting because I don’t think I could give you back.”

He smiled bashfully.

“Really?” The hope and joy in his voice made Mary Margaret smile widely.

“Really. As soon as we get the all-clear, you’re all mine.”

She really had to work on the blushing.

 

It was dark when Henry woke. The pain and dizziness has receded only slightly, but he couldn’t afford to waste any more time. He walked slowly back to the place where the old man had found him. There was no sign of anyone searching for either the man or an intruder, so Henry carefully followed the man’s trail until he saw orange light coming through the trees. It was too steady to be firelight and Henry remembered his mother describing the glowing torches powered by something called electricity that lit the streets of Storybrooke. He crept slowly past houses and strange, squat, metal contraptions that roughly corresponded to what he imagined ‘cars’ looking like until eventually he reached the centre of the town. He found a shadowed corner and watched the few people who were still out. Across from him a bell chimed as the door to a store opened and a man exited. He was mostly in shadow, his face hidden, so it wasn’t until he turned and limped away that Henry was able to identify him. It seemed the Dark One was either genuinely under the curse, or continuing to play his role.

Henry thought for a moment. He had no magic here and the journey had weakened him badly, so he couldn’t afford to confront the Dark One directly. On the other hand, his time was limited. As soon as his mother awoke she would come for him, in all likelihood bringing his men with her. If he wanted answers, he’d have to find them fast, without arousing suspicion.

There were too many people still around to risk going through the Dark One’s store. Instead, he slipped away, his mind fixed on the large, white mansion he had passed that bore his mother’s stamp all over it. He’d get some more rest and begin again tomorrow.

 

Emma’s phone rang.

“Recovery Services, Emma Swan speaking,” she said distractedly, flipping through paperwork.

“Hey Emma,” came the response.

“Mary Margaret, hi! What’s up?”

“Um, actually we were hoping to hire you.” The schoolteacher sounded a little sheepish.

“Hire me? What for? And who’s we?”

“Uh, me and John. We’re hoping you might be able to find out who he is. Like you found Nicky and Ava’s dad!”

“Uh…” Emma thought fast. 

_You’re the best person for the job. They’re your friends._

_Which means if you can’t do it, you’ve let friends down. Besides, friends and money don’t mix._

“Please, Emma?” Mary Margaret’s voice carried a hint of desperation.

_Screw it._

“Sure. I’ll come up tomorrow and interview him properly, and we’ll see what we can find.”

Mary Margaret’s squeal of delight deafened her momentarily.

“Okay, okay!” She chuckled. “I have some stuff to do here, I should get there around six. We can do the interview over dinner if you like?”

“That sounds great!”

“Okay, can you ask Ruby to grab me a room?”

“No problem!” Emma swore she could hear Mary Margaret bouncing up and down.

“Mary Margaret, you know this might not pan out, right?”

There was a smile in her friend’s voice as she answered.

“I believe in you.”

 

Henry woke at dawn feeling no better. His head pounded and his body ached. He stumbled from the bedroom and vomited on the hallway carpet. He spent several minutes running his head under cold water and then slipped out of the house that had been his mothers’. The thought occurred to him that it had been his first home too, that he’d spent the first month of his life here. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

The town was still mostly asleep. There were a few industrious souls walking dogs or preparing for the day ahead but Henry slipped through unnoticed until he reached the Town Hall. He had searched his mother’s house the previous evening for any records pertaining to his birth and found nothing. Now he entered what would have been her office.

It was completely different from anything he knew. Back home his mother had an office behind the main throne room that was piled high with books and maps and the ephemera needed to run a kingdom. This room was tidy and beautiful and completely dead. It was hard to imagine his mother sitting quietly alone at this desk all day when all he had ever known was a fierce, vibrant Queen who argued with advisors and met with local representatives and directed generals with confidence and passion. He couldn’t picture his mother happy here, even with her enemies under her thumb.

His search was fruitless. He had avoided the thought ever since arriving, but the time had come. He needed to talk to Rumpelstiltskin.

The town was waking up as he left, so Henry kept to the back streets as he made his way towards the store. As he arrived, he saw the Dark One approach, but instead of entering he walked past, heading for the café. Henry didn’t waste time. He crept to the rear entrance and used his knife to work at the rusted lock. There was a squeal of metal as it gave way and Henry froze for a long moment, knife at the ready. When no-one came to investigate Henry entered the store quickly and pulled the door back into position.

The shelves to his left held stacks of paper. Every other flat surface was covered by objects that had to be relics of other worlds. He recognised a wooden carving of an animal that did not exist in this place and several more that were legends even in his own lands. Were they proof that the Dark One remembered his past or had his mother simply taunted him by putting his past right in front of him without his knowledge? Henry shook off the internal debate and went to the papers. Somewhere in here were the answers he needed.

They had to be.

 

Mr Gold finished his omelette and smiled at Ruby’s discomfort as she cleared his plate away. The memory of her awkward smile cheered him as he walked to his storefront. He’d developed the habit of eating at the café as often as possible and today it had paid off. Ruby had told her grandmother to expect a visit from Ms Swan that very evening. He whistled cheerily as he approached the door. A shadow moved inside the store and he stopped dead, then limped around the back with surprising stealth.

The door was closed but had obviously been forced. He pressed gently against it, opening it slowly enough that the tortured hinges didn’t give him away. A young man sat facing away from him, papers spread on the floor.

He scowled.

“And who might you be?”

The boy leapt to his feet and turned, knife at the ready.

“Where is it?” He demanded.

“Where is what? If you’ve come to steal there’s better here than paper.” Gold played the part of the half scared, half angry shopkeeper to the hilt as he thought. The boy wasn’t a resident. He wore clothing from the old country, working garb but of good quality. He was well-trained, that was obvious at a glance, but he seemed sickly. It wasn’t until the boy’s chin rose mulishly that he saw the family resemblance.

Henry.

“Where are the records, Dark One? I want to know where I came from!”

The Savior’s son. The Queen’s changeling. This was just…perfect.

“Dark One?” He asked, his tone perfectly astonished. “Is that supposed to be racist? I have no idea where you came from, you’re the one breaking into my shop!”

Henry gestured sloppily with his blade and Gold stepped to the side, opening an escape route.

“You don’t fool me,” Henry told him. Gold was impressed by his confidence, but it was obvious that the mystery of his origins had become an obsession. His mother had raised him in her image, it seemed.

“My mother told me that she knew the way to control you. That she kept it close. I’m going to find it and when I do, you’re going to answer my questions!” The tip of the blade wavered drunkenly in his direction

The dagger? That was his plan? He’d found that years ago. He tried a scared but sympathetic tone.

“My boy, I’ll answer any questions you have, just please put the knife down!”

“Stay where you are,” Henry told him, edging toward the door. “Come no closer.”

“Okay,” Gold agreed.

Henry ran. Gold waited a few seconds and then went to the door. He leaned against the frame and smiled.

 

Henry’s mind felt foggy. The Dark One might not have been pretending, he might still have been under the curse. If so, he would report the break in and Henry would have the law after him. If he did remember, he’d come after Henry himself to get at his mother. His head throbbed.  Either way he was out of options. He had to find what he was looking for quickly and hope he could hide for long enough to be rescued when his mother came through. He couldn’t shake the nagging thought that coming here had been a colossal mistake. He went over what his mother had told him about what she had hidden to control the Dark One, but his thoughts felt sluggish. He stumbled behind a dumpster and vomited violently. Once he had stopped retching and cleared his watering eyes he saw specks of dark red in the mess he had left.

Mistake might have been an understatement.

He staggered into the street, pain pulsing up and down his body. A figure came near and reached out and Henry managed to step inside the stranger’s reach and slash at him with the knife. The figure fell back with a cry and Henry lurched away, brandishing his knife at the blurred forms of the people who came near.

“I’ll kill you all if I have to, traitors!” He screamed hoarsely. He turned and ran as fast as he could manage as a crowd gathered around the body lying prone on the ground and the dark stain under it spread until it reached the drain nearby.

 

Emma’s cell phone rang.

“Emma Swan,” she answered.

“Emma, Emma, oh God, you have to come!” Mary Margaret was sobbing and could barely get the words out.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Emma demanded.

“There’s…oh God, there’s…” More sobbing, and then rustling as the phone was passed over.

“Emma?”

“Doctor Whale? What the hell-“

“Sheriff Graham is dead. There’s some guy, a drug addict or something, he stabbed him. He threatened to kill us all and we can’t find Marco or Doctor Hopper. We don’t have a Sherriff, we need you!”

Emma sat in shocked silence for a moment.

“I’m on my way. Call the state police!”

Emma hit the end call button, grabbed her keys and tore out of the office.

 

Henry kicked down the boarding over the library door and stormed in. The dizziness and nausea were passing but he had lost sensation in his left arm and his heart was racing. Distantly he wondered why he wasn’t just finding a place to hole up until his mother arrived, but the thought was forgotten almost as soon as he had it. His fevered mind could not release the idea of getting his answers.

“Where are you?” He screamed in frustration.

 

Emma hit the 93 at high speed. Luckily, traffic was light and her truck wove in and out of the few cars on the road without too much danger. Her cell rang again and she slapped the Bluetooth headset she was wearing hard enough that her ears rang.

“Yeah?”

“Emma, what the hell?” Came Mike’s voice. “Jamie said you ran out of the office like there were hellhounds on your tail!”

“Emergency. Can’t talk. I’ll call you ASAP.”

“You need backup?”

“Might. Keep your phone on. Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“If I call, bring guns.”

 

Hours of searching had failed. He’d stayed too long. Word had spread about the attack and a search had begun. The kicked-in door was obvious. A mob had gathered outside the library and Henry couldn’t get through them all. He swayed briefly as he thought through his options, then fumbled at the pouch on his belt. He retrieved flint and steel, but it took him several tries to strike properly as the numbness in his arm began to spread across his chest.

The paper he had torn from several books took three strikes to catch and he nursed the infant flame carefully. As it began to spread he retreated to a nearby window. The crowd noticed the fire and began to panic, spreading out and focussing on the new threat. Henry waited for the fire to begin to spread out of control, smashed the window with a chair and clambered through, dropping heavily to the ground on the other side. He tasted the coppery tang of blood at the back of his throat.

_You’re dying,_ came a tiny voice from the back of his mind. _You should give up._

_I can’t,_ he told it, and felt panic rise within him at the realisation. The compulsion to keep searching was controlling him and he would stop at nothing. He had to keep going.

A sliver of glass fell from the battered window frame, slicing at his arm. He heard a screech from in front of the library and then raised voices. Blood dripped from his arm onto his shoe.

 

Emma took the Storybrooke turning on two wheels. Black smoke was visible over the treetops. The truck raced down the long road into town and squealed to a halt in the main square. Emma jumped out of the truck and ran over to where several people were staring at the flames coming from the library. Mr Gold was leaning against a lamppost nursing a black eye. Emma saw a bandage across his arm. A hand caught her arm and she spun to see Ruby, sweat stained and sooty.

“What the fuck is going on?” Emma demanded.

“We think the guy is in there. He attacked Mr Gold in his store and killed Graham as he was coming out.”

“Where are the state police?”

“What?” Ruby frowned.

“I told Whale to call them! Where are they?”

“I don’t… it doesn’t matter, Emma. They’re not here! We need your help!”

Emma took a breath.

“Mary Margaret said the guy was an addict?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Where is she?”

“She went back to the school, the kids, you know? John’s with her.”

“Who saw him? Who’s seen him?” She yelled to the crowd. “Where’s the goddamn fire engine?” She demanded of Ruby.

“It’s coming.”

“Who’s seen this guy?” Emma yelled again. “What does he look like?”

Nobody seemed to know. There was a crash from inside the library and Emma’s skin began to prickle.

“Everybody get back!”

Emma went to her truck and grabbed her taser and collapsible baton. The hairs on her arms stood up as the air seemed to fill with static. She turned around in time to see a boarded-up window explode outward.

Along the side of the building someone was coming. He had one hand on the wall to steady himself and the other held a bloody knife. She heard several screams as people retreated from the figure. Emma ran towards him.

Her feet seemed to kick up sparks as she ran. The air around her snapped and popped with electricity. The man seemed to recoil as though he felt it too, but then he grinned widely, showing teeth stained with blood. His eyes met Emma’s and she stopped dead.

“Neal?” It couldn’t be him. Not here.

The world tore open.

 

Emma was knocked to the ground and several others were thrown backward. When she looked up she couldn’t believe her eyes. There was a gap in the air. Men dressed like renaissance fair rejects were streaming through it and behind them Emma could see a small wooden construction on the outskirts of a forest. She blinked as the first men through punched, kicked and shoved the crowd away. A few drew swords but were called off by another, who seemed to be in charge. Others carried crossbows and pole arms.

The last group through the…whatever it was were guarding someone. Emma couldn’t get a clean look. Six or seven of them surrounded the man who had killed Graham, the man who looked like Neal, and propped him between them. Once they had him, an order was issued and the group turned to go back through. The man screamed and tore free of their grip.

I can’t go back!” His voice broke horribly as energy arced from him to the awful gap in the world. The group guarding the figure at the back were thrown forward as the gap flickered and snapped shut.

There was a moment of awful silence.

“Henry!” Came a woman’s voice from inside the guard group. Emma’s taser hung limp at her side as she watched the woman push her way through the soldiers and grasp the man who couldn’t be Neal by the shoulders.

“What did you do?” She demanded. Behind them, another window blew out and burning timber began to rain down. The man who wasn’t Neal collapsed.

“Your Majesty,” one of the soldiers called. “We must retreat!”

The soldiers formed up around the two figures and orders were given. The group moved back, retreating behind the library. A few members of the crowd began to follow and the woman’s voice rang out.

A guy Emma vaguely recognised from the hardware store fell to the ground, an arrow in his chest. The crowd surrounded him and the soldiers retreated as the library began to collapse, blocking any further pursuit.

Emma’s head swam. Beside her, Ruby was saying her name over and over.

“Emma. Emma. Emma.” The waitress was shaking.

“Emma. That was Mayor Mills.”


End file.
